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t • A 







THE MASTERY OF LOVE 


By J. E. McCulloch 


The Open Church 
for the Unchurched 

12mo, Cloth, net $1.00. 

”What Bishop Hendrix says is true : 
‘This intereating book is like the letters 
of a war correspondent. It is a picture 
of the firing line.’ How to reach the 
masses ; that is the question to which 
this book gives answer. It is a strong 
defense of the institutional church. Its 
motto is : ‘Save all men and all of the 
man by all means.’ Most readable 
throughout and evangelically stimulat- 
ing. ” — Standard. 



The Mastery of Love 

A Narrative of 
Settlement Life 


By 

JAMES E. MCCULLOCH 

Author of ** T'he Open Church for the Unchurched ” 



New York 

Fleming H. 

London 


Chicago Toronto 

Revell Company 

Edinburgh 


AND 


Copyright, 1910, by 
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 


'b 





New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 80 Wabash Avenue 
Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: loo Princes Street 


€ CI.A 2 ? 880 o 


PREFACE 


T his book was not made ; it grew. It is 
not a novel, but a narrative. It is not the 
“ work ” of the author ; but a “ labor 
of love” for his odd moments — a by-product 
woven out of the scraps of time from a busy school 
life. 

The purpose of the book is to make a study of some 
conditions through types of society. The only 
characters in this study who utterly fail in the 
school of life are the criminal who has grown old 
in crime and hypocrisy, the rich young man who is 
satisfied with his wealth and sinfulness, and others 
who have an inheritance and environment of evil 
that make their lives inexorable. The slum chil- 
dren and the youth — even the very worst in Hell’s 
Acre — so develop, as a rule, under the teachings of 
the truth and under the inspiration of Christian in- 
fluence, that their growth in character seems won- 
derful. 

The test of every life in Hell’s Acre and every- 
where is the power and quality of one’s ruling love. 
The finest art and most sacred work is that of Miss 
Eishnell whose business is to transform lives by the 
power of love and of Christian personality so that 
they cease to be sinful and miserable and become 
unselfish, devoted and happy. 

6 


6 


Preface 


Through his knowledge of these “ types,” the 
author has come to understand better the classes 
that constitute the every-day life of modern society, 
to sympathize more deeply with the bitter hearted 
and to believe more strongly in the essential good- 
ness of human nature. 

He wrote the book just for the joy of working 
and for the help it may give to others. If the por- 
trayal of these characters leads the reader to be 
more sympathetic towards the unfortunate and 
more grateful and happy in the love that has 
blessed his own life, the object of the author will 
have been accomplished. 

James E. McCulloch. 

Nashville^ Tenn, 


CONTENTS 

I. The Settlement Opened in Hell’s Acre 

II. Life in Hell’s Acre ..... 

III. Reality Winning the Worst 

IV. The Homes of the Poor .... 

V. McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 

VI. Some of McGregor’s Letters 

VII. The Speech of George Andrews . 

VIII. The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 

IX. Death in the Homes of the Poor 

X. Where Sin Leads Wealth to Moral Poverty 

XI. A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 

XII. The True Object of Life .... 


9 

3 * 

63 

77 

103 

123 

141 

179 

203 

217 

233 

257 


7 


/ 




I 


The Settlement Opened in Hell’s Acre 

















I 


THE SETTLEMENT OPENED IN HELL’S ACEE 

H ELL’S ACEE is the name of a notorious 
slum in the Athens of the South. It is 
about half a mile square and filled with 
human wreckage. Every life has been struck with 
the blight of sin and suffering. 

The nerve centre of Hell’s Acre is a social settle- 
ment called “ Community House,” which was 
opened September 24, 1901, with Miss Annette 
Eishnell as head-resident and Miss Ellen Palmer as 
kindergarten teacher. 

The building to be used as the headquarters of 
the settlement and the living-rooms of the mission- 
aries had been set in order by a committee of 
energetic women, representing the board of direct- 
ors, who had also planned a “ cordial ” reception. 
At the close of the reception. Miss Eishnell and 
Miss Palmer were shown through the building, 
which had four living-rooms on the second fioor 
and a large lecture hall below. After a free dis- 
cussion about the needs of the field and methods of 
work, the chairman of the committee gave the keys 
to Miss Eishnell, and then the two young ladies 
were left alone to work out the social and moral 
regeneration of “ Hell’s Acre.” 

The whole situation was calculated to give the 
11 


12 


The Mastery of Love 

stoutest heart the “ blues.” Here were two young 
women far from home, where they had enjoyed 
many of life’s sweetest privileges. Being a college 
graduate, though only about twenty-six years of 
age. Miss Kishnell could have commanded, by her 
splendid intellectual gifts, a large salary as a 
teacher. The refinement and beauty of her person- 
ality stood out in striking contrast to the ignorance 
and ugliness of that slum. The very building they 
had come to occupy looked like a barn compared 
with the elegant dwellings of the committee that 
had just left. Hot a person, not even a name, did 
they know in the whole community. There they 
were alone like angels of light in a spiritual dungeon. 

Why had they come ? Surely not for the salary, 
which would scarcely provide board and very 
modest clothing. Heither had they come for 
pleasure ; they were not “ out sightseeing in the 
slums.” A young man in the reading-room later 
tried to explain their motives by saying: “They 
are some of them blamed Yankees come down here 
thinkin’ they’ll learn us how to git religion.” Yet 
they were more than even the “ professional mis- 
sionary ” ; their motives were deeper ; their life 
more normal and wholesome. 

An incident that occurred a few evenings after 
they came will give at least a hint at their real 
purpose. They were sitting at the window of the 
front room, looking out on the street below and 
pointing out various objects of interest that could 
be seen in the glare of the street lights. They had 


The Settlement Opened in Hell’s Acre 13 

observed a group of little children playing in the 
street and Miss Palmer had just remarked that she 
hoped they could be enlisted for her kindergarten. 
While they were looking at the group of little tots 
quietly playing, a woman’s screams startled them. 
Peering eagerly out of the window, they saw a 
woman running towards the group of children and 
screaming as if in great distress. Then another 
woman sprang frantically out on the pavement, 
and then a third, all running towards the children. 
Seeing no cause for alarm, the missionaries hurried 
down-stairs and out to the front. Miss Kishnell 
opened the door and was on the point of stepping 
out on the pavement, when she heard a man’s voice 
near by breathing out bitter oaths, as if insane. 
She quietly stepped back inside and closed the door. 
In a moment a young man went staggering by, 
holding a long knife in his hand and waving it 
over his head, swearing like a madman. Presently 
the voice died away, leaving the very air of the 
street polluted and dreadful. 

The young ladies returned to their rooms, per- 
plexed and grieved. While talking scarcely above 
a whisper about the scene they had just witnessed, 
the door-bell rang. If a cannon had been fired on 
the top of the house, they would not have been more 
startled. When Miss Palmer caught her breath she 
sighed : “ Annette, what shall we do ? Are you 
sure you locked the door ? ” 

Miss Kishnell said nothing, but walked quietly to 
the side window in her room and looked down to 


14 The Mastery of Love 

see who was at the door. There stood a woman, 
evidently very poor. Miss Kishnell called down : 
“ Well, what is it ? ” The woman replied : “ Good- 
evening, miss. Ain’t you a stranger here ? ” 
‘‘ Yes, we are,” was the response. “ Well, I’ve got 
somethin’ I want to tell ye.” “ All right, just wait 
till I can come down and let you in.” 

“ What on earth does she want to tell us ? ” 
whispered Miss Palmer. Miss Kishnell invited the 
stranger in, but was very careful to lock the door. 
Miss Palmer was an electrified interrogation. They 
sat down together with the woman in the library, 
wondering what would happen next. 

They soon discovered, however, that they had 
found a friend. Mrs. Sharpe, who lived just across 
the street in front of the settlement, had been told 
that two young women were to live in this build- 
ing and open a settlement. She didn’t know what 
it all meant, but she had an idea that they were 
good women, and there for a good purpose. She 
had been watching their movements during the ex- 
citement of the evening, and thinking they might 
be frightened, came with genuine kindness in her 
heart, “ to tell them all about it.” 

She explained that the drunken man who had 
passed with the knife in his hand was Ed Banford. 
He had just been tried for murder, having cut a 
negro to death in a near-by saloon called “ Ked 
Onion.” He was saved from the penitentiary or 
gallows only by the testimony of witnesses who 
had been trained for weeks by the saloon-keeper to 


The Settlement Opened in HelPs Acre 15 

swear to falsehoods. Mrs. Sharpe said that he was 
the “ bully ” of “ Hell’s Acre ” and the meanest man 
“ the devil ever turned loose.” Miss Kishnell asked 
Mrs. Sharpe a number of questions. “Has he a 
home?” “Ho, he sleeps in the saloons.” “Has 
he a mother ? ” “ Ho, they say his mother killed 

herself because her husband was so mean to her. 
Why, child, I’ve hearn ’em tell how he used to 
beat her till she couldn’t walk and the neighbors 
would carry her things to eat.” “ How old is Ed 
Banford, now ? ” “ Oh, I guess he’s goin’ on to 

thirty or past, perhaps.” “What does he do?” 
“Do! Bless you, child, I hain’t never seen or 
hearn of him doin’ nothin’ but git drunk and cuss 
and fight.” “ Has he any friends ? ” “ Yes, all the 

fellers in the gang would fight fer him.” “What 
is the gang ? ” “ Why, a lot of the mean boys that 

loaf ’round these saloons.” “ Hasn’t Banford any 
work at aU ? ” “ Ho, they tells me he makes his 

money by gamblin’ and robbin’ folks.” 

Mrs. Sharpe then suddenly changed the subject 
and began asking questions about the young ladies, 
— where they were from, why they had come, 
whether they were married or expected to marry, 
and a dozen more inquiries. She then left, saying : 
“If you git in trouble jess holler out the winder 
and I’ll come a-hikin’.” 

Thus this terrible day at the settlement closed, 
and was followed by almost a sleepless night for 
the missionaries. All was so new, so strange, so 
awful — the scene of the children and the mothers 


l6 The Mastery of Love 

and the drunken man, and the horrible story of his 
life. While everything good and pure and lovely 
seemed to be hundreds of miles away in the sweet 
village homes they had left. 

Next morning they rose early, in time to see the 
men pass along the streets on their way to work. 
Later Miss Kishnell found Miss Palmer in her room 
weeping. She quietly withdrew, struggling to keep 
the tears from her own eyes. Eeturning presently 
she exclaimed in a cheerful voice : “ Ellen Palmer, 
I have made a great discovery ! ” Forgetting the 
“ blues ” for the moment, curious to know Miss 
Kishnell’s discovery, she said: “You have? 
What is it?” “Why, I have just discovered 
that the latest and most scientific method of con- 
ducting a kindergarten is by water power ! ” Miss 
Palmer first looked hurt, then laughed and her first 
case of “blues” was cured. Later Miss Kishnell 
further gave courage to her assistant by this dec- 
laration: “I have made up my mind to reform 
that man Banford if I have to bring Gabriel from 
heaven to do it.” “Well,” said Miss Palmer, 
laughing almost through tears, “ Gabriel can have 
my part of the job any day.” 

In a few days the settlement was a busy place. 
The first effort was to visit the homes of the peo- 
ple in interest of the kindergarten and industrial 
school. Miss Kishnell has narrated in articles, let- 
ters and in her diary many of her experiences and 
observations. There is such a reality, freshness and 
beauty in what she has written that I shall use her 


The Settlement Opened in HelPs Acre 17 

own language as far as possible. In speaking of 
her early visiting among the poor she wrote : 

“ As a sort of sesame to the homes, I always car- 
ried some papers for the older people and some 
pictures for the little folk. With these I usually 
entered into the home, but frequently also got my- 
self into difficulty. At one of the first houses I 
visited, the mother, a Eoman Catholic, received me 
patronizingly. She said she didn’t like book agents 
and guessed she had ‘ read all the trashy truck any 
one might be totin’ ’round.’ When she was con- 
vinced that I was not an agent, though she doubted 
my statement that I was a friend, she began to 
catechize me as to what I had read. She was dis- 
gusted because I had no knowledge of two dime 
novels her husband had been reading and pro- 
nounced ‘bunkum.’ ‘Well, poor thing,’ she 
sighed in sympathy for my ignorance, ‘has yer 
ever read “ Eobinson Crusoe ” ? ’ ‘Yes, indeed ! ’ 
We had struck common ground at last. Now it 
was my chance to question. She had never heard 
of Shakespeare and made fun of his name. ‘I 
wonder if he had the kind of shakes my man had 
t’other day ? ’ She referred to her husband. She 
insisted that she read everything, and as all the 
books I mentioned were unknown to her, she at 
once concluded that I read the wrong kind of 
‘trash.’ In desperation I asked if she read the 
Bible. No, she had never seen ‘one of them 
books.’ I read her a bit of spicy Jewish history — 
the book of Euth, paraphrasing and explaining 


i8 The Mastery of Love 

where it was necessary — and she was greatly in- 
terested. ‘ It sounds like the story of some folks I 
know in Hell’s Acre,’ she declared enthusiastically. 

“ Two or three days later from a corner grocery 
she called me up over the ’phone and asked me to 
read her ‘ somethin’ funny from that new book.’ 
As this could not be done an arrangement was 
made for her to come to the settlement for me to 
read to her. She came at least once a week for 
some time, and we read history, some of the para- 
bles, and vivid scenes from the life of Christ, out 
of a big, well illustrated family Bible. She seemed 
strangely fascinated. She handled the Bible fondly 
and asked many questions about what such a book 
would cost. One day our Bible disappeared from 
its place in the schoolroom, and we wondered 
what had become of it. Months afterwards Miss 
Palmer noticed our Bible in Mrs. Ely’s home. She 
seemed to have absolutely no conscience about the 
theft. The all absorbing thing with her was to 
possess the coveted book. 

“ While visiting about two months after the 
community house had been open, I found living in 
a little shack an old woman by the name of Mrs. 
Cork who told me her life story. After the death 
of her husband she moved her small belongings 
from the country to the city to seek work for her- 
self and oldest girl. She was a sweet, lovable, 
Christian character, who in her girlhood had been 
accustomed to the comforts of life. After living in 
town four years and getting along fairly well, her 


The Settlement Opened in Hell’s Acre 19 

oldest girl, only sixteen years old, married a worth- 
less, shiftless man, who added nothing to the family 
income. He did not support his wife nor even live 
at home, maintaining that it was all he could do to 
support himself and visit them ‘ occasionally.’ It 
was just after the birth of their third child that I 
found the family. There was that poor old woman 
struggling hard but uncomplainingly to support 
herself, her two little children, her married daugh- 
ter and three children. 

“ This is how she did it. She did four washings a 
week for people in good circumstances who were 
members of her church and who professed to be 
trying to help her. She received from these char- 
itably disposed church-members the generous sum 
of fifty cents for each large washing, which if done 
at any reputable laundry would have cost at least 
double that amount. 

“ During the day while she washed and ironed, 
her little girl, a frail, delicate child of fourteen, 
and the boy of ten carried meal and bran sacks from 
a bag factory for their mother to mend at night. 
For the mending of these sacks she received only 
half a cent each, and boasted that she could mend 
fifty an evening. Think of that poor, heroic soul 
mending sacks by a globeless kerosene lamp every 
night with her tired hands either soft and sore from 
the hot suds or parched and chapped from the hot 
iron ! Think of that ceaseless, dreary grind of toil 
going on for years without hope of respite ! Think 
of the dingy, paintless walls ever hemming her in 


20 


The Mastery of Love 

and narrowing her vision, and starving her soul as 
she longed for the rest of beauty ! Think of the 
chill shadow of want like a black cloud hanging 
over her and cutting off even the sunshine of God’s 
love from her view, and then do you wonder that 
she said one day : ‘ I am just that tired that I hope 
I’ll die to-night ’ ? Death was the only hope for a 
life that I know God meant should be filled with 
warmth and sunshine and love. Eemember, too, 
that the man who paid this old woman the miserly 
half -cent for mending sacks was an official member 
of a leading church. He is wealthy, very wealthy. 
He goes to church in an automobile, tipping his hat 
to his fellow rich. He fumbles his gold-headed cane 
as he looks at the preacher, perhaps thinking how 
he may find other unfortunate women to mend 
bags at half a cent. Great God have mercy 
stiU! 

“ After visiting Mrs. Cork one day, I returned to 
the settlement to find Mrs. Millburn and her 
daughter Lillian, who was at that time about ten 
years of age. Mrs. Millburn was a typical church 
enthusiast who had come to look in on our work 
and give the missionaries some free advice. She 
could talk about nothing but her church, her mis- 
sionary society, her Sunday-school, her prayer- 
meeting, or her club. After she had tallied a con- 
siderable time, I took occasion to tell her of Mrs. 
Cork, thinking such a case of need would appeal to 
her. But I was surprised to find that Mrs. Cork’s 
condition was of no interest to her whatever. She 


The Settlement Opened in Hell’s Acre 21 

scarcely seemed to understand what I had said, for 
she went right on talking about her church. The 
thought flashed into my mind that she was probably 
one of that class of Christian workers who are more 
interested in the success of the church than in 
helping ordinary live folk. So I resolved that I 
would press her into a visit or two in the commu- 
nity. She readily accepted my invitation and we 
started out accompanied by Lillian. 

“We had not gone far when our attention was 
attracted by a little girl crying bitterly on the 
door-step of a near-by house. The little forlorn 
child was crying in such an unusual manner that I 
stepped aside to inquire into the trouble. The an- 
swer was : ‘ Ma’s sick and pa’s runned off and 
J^ora’s fltten and I’s hungry.’ Surely reason 
enough ! So I suggested to Mrs. Millburn that we 
should investigate the matter at once. She rather 
reluctantly agreed. We entered the house and 
found the mother sick, very sick, with typhoid 
fever, and though she had been in bed for two 
weeks, had no physician and no medicine. There 
was little hope of doing any permanent good, but I 
urged that we should send her immediately to the 
hospital. Mrs. Millburn seemed utterly helpless, 
but finally suggested that she might report the case 
to her missionary society or to her pastor. I asked 
her to wait with the sick woman till I could go to 
the corner drug store and telephone to the hospital 
— a Eoman Catholic hospital, too, if you please. 
Because the Protestants of this great city have been 


I 


22 


The Mastery of Love 

too busy listening to sermons and going to prayer- 
meetings and making money and abusing Catholics 
to do as unchristian a thing as to build a hospital. 
When I telephoned to Sister Fidelia, she said : 
‘ Yes, dear, send her over. Well do the best we 
can for her.’ And her voice sounded Christian to 
me ! Soon the ambulance was on the ground and 
the poor woman was sent away. 

“ Mrs. Millburn heard me call the name of the 
Catholic hospital and said : ‘ Miss Eishnell, don’t 

you think it is wrong to send her to St. ? ’ 

She then explained that she would rather see the 
woman die than become a Catholic. Poor woman ! 
May God forgive the Catholics for their mistakes 
and may He have pity on us Protestants for our 
stupidity ! 

“ When the ambulance was gone I found myself 
in charge of the three little girls and one of them a 
‘fitten.’ What could be done? I appealed to 
Mrs. Millburn again for some of her free advice, 
but unfortunately her supply had been exhausted 
on imaginary cases, and she could offer no help for 
the living. A Mrs. Davis lived in the other half of 
the house, so I asked her to look after the children 
till I could go to the hospital. She agreed gladly 
and then asked : ‘ Is that woman kin to you ? ’ re- 
ferring to the sick mother. I informed her that we 
were all alike daughters of Eve and that was kin 
enough to make us kind to one another. ‘ How, 
ain’t that so? That’s what I call religin — bein’ 
kind to one another.’ I replied by saying : ‘ Have 


The Settlement Opened in HelPs Acre 23 

you got that kind of religion yourself?’ ‘Yes, 
that’s mine.’ ‘ Then,’ I said, ‘ keep these children 
till I come back.’ We then started towards the 
settlement. 

“ On our way Lillian slipped up close to me and 
taking my hand held it as we walked along. I had 
scarcely noticed the girl till then, but there was a 
touch of need in her grasp. I turned and said : 
‘ Lillian, would you not like to help me do mission 
work ? ’ She looked up as though I had spoken the 
name of some dear friend about whom she dared 
not ask a question. She had a sweet, gentle face 
and eyes that expressed a great soul-hunger. 
After saying good-bye to Mrs. Millburn, I stooped 
over and kissed Lillian. She seemed confused at 
first and then she looked straight into my eyes and 
sweetly smiled. 

“ I hastened over to the hospital, thinking even 
more of that yearning look of Lillian than of the 
sick mother. A few days later the mother died, 
after committing her three girls to my care. The 
father, who had ‘ runned off ’ in a drunken fit of 
anger, heard of his wife’s death and returned. 
He claimed the custody of the girls, and as the 
law was on his side, I was [powerless, though I 
knew it meant suffering for the children. The 
little two-roomed cottage that had been so neatly 
kept by the mother’s tireless efforts was ex- 
changed for a damp basement room. The ad- 
joining rooms were occupied by a man and 
woman recognized as disreputable characters. The 


24 The Mastery of Love 

winter was upon us — a bitter winter too for the 
South — and the wide-spread suffering prevented my 
visiting the children as often as I desired. 

“ Eumors, which could not be traced down, kept 
coming to me to the effect that ‘ Nora was goin’ to 
the dogs.’ [N^ora, the girl who was described by 
the sister as ‘ fitten,’ was a very pretty, weak- 
minded girl of fourteen. She was subject to such 
pronounced attacks of sullenness that the neighbors 
said she had ‘ fits ’ — hence the word ‘ fitten.’ To 
my unutterable horror, I found one day in her 
room a young man, well dressed, well appearing, 
unquestionably a young man from some ‘ good ’ 
home. On inquiring later I found he was the son 
of a leading member of my church and came from 
one of the ‘ best ’ homes in the city. All my ques- 
tioning gained no satisfactory answer concerning 
his presence. So Callie, the ten-year-old girl, was 
taken home with me and from her I got the facts. 
‘Yes, ’e’s ben thar heaps of times,’ the child said. 
‘Pa goes down town, or som’er’s, and sends sich 
nice boys out to see Nora. That’s the way Nora 
makes money and we gits grub to eat.’ I felt 
frozen to the chair. I took the child and went home 
with her. As it was late, her father was there, and I 
made Callie relate before him and Nora what she 
had told me. Nora was silent, but the father in- 
sisted that he had a right to make a living any way 
he could for his ‘ young ’uns.’ That night, before I 
could procure a warrant of arrest and a police, he 
took Nora and fled. 


The Settlement Opened in HelPs Acre 25 

“ A few weeks later I was even more grieved by a 
similar experience. 

“ Carrie Tidwell, one of my club girls, was brought 
home from the factory very ill. Her aunt with 
whom she lived sent to the settlement for some 
medicine. I went at once to see what was the 
trouble, and found Carrie suffering intensely as if 
from poisoning. Without saying anything to them 
of my intentions and knowing the case was urgent, 
I called my physician. When he arrived Carrie’s 
embarrassment and protest against seeing him 
were unaccountable. His rapid and accurate ex- 
amination soon horrified us with the intelligence 
that the girl was suffering from the effects of an 
abortion. Little by little we drew from her this 
dreadful story. The owner of the factory was 
kind to her ; often paying her a little extra because 
she was an orphan ; frequently asking her to his cozy 
office at the noon hour to water his plants ; some- 
times substituting his nice lunch for her meagre one. 
After gaining her confidence and esteem, he robbed 
her of her virtue. When she told him of her con- 
dition, he said he would attend to that and calling 
a carriage put her in it with a note and a check. 
The carriage took her to some doctor’s office up 
toAvn where she was given something which made 
her sleepy. When she came to herself she was 
sent home, where I soon found her in that distress- 
ing condition. She did not know where she had 
been nor who the doctor was. I wanted a lawyer 
to take up the case and I asked a member of our 


26 


The Mastery of Love 

emergency committee to see Mr. John McGregor, 
a young lawyer who had been recommended to me 
by a member of our board of directors. He took 
the matter up and after three weeks of searching 
for cohesive evidence, advised that we drop the 
case as the aunt had been hired by the factory 
owner to testify against the character of Carrie. 

“ Who was the man ? The owner of the factory ? 
One of the wealthiest and most respected men of 
the city. A man noted for his charity and generos- 
ity — but secretly a demon. 

“ There was to be a wedding in Hell’s Acre, 
not what is known among the poor as a ‘slip 
wedding,’ wherein the contracting parties marry 
secretly, — but a genuine marriage to which we 
were all invited. I was to go early and help the 
bride to dress. I slipped into the back room where 
I expected to find the bride alone, but to my aston- 
ishment the groom was sitting in front of the grate, 
with his back respectfully turned, while Diretha 
was combing her hair and making her toilet only 
a few feet from him. He was promptly dismissed 
to the settlement to get some ‘ forgotten ’ article. 
We then hastened her toilet. Her dress con- 
sisted of a nicely laundered shirt-waist, two sizes 
too large, and a black skirt borrowed from a friend. 
Her hair was ornamented with some cheap artificial 
fiowers. But when I had tied a piece of soft white 
ribbon around her neck, in the place of the starched 
and ironed pink one, and put a lace trimmed hand- 
kerchief in her hand, she really looked sweet and 


The Settlement Opened in HelPs Acre 27 

fresh and happy. The other little room of the 
house, where the ceremony was to be performed, 
was entirely empty except for several chairs. The 
crowd that came was an interesting assembly. All 
who were invited came, and many others, too. 
While the ceremony was being performed, a little 
borrowed music box which was being constantly 
rewound played in screeching, discordant notes 
‘ Home, Sweet Home.’ After the ‘ knot was 
tied ’ this little front room had to be used for the 
supper which was to follow, consequently the bridal 
couple and all the guests retired to a vacant lot 
adjoining the house, where a ‘ bran dance ’ was 
held. The most popular girl, that is the one who 
danced the most, was given a peck of turnip-top 
salad as a prize. After they had danced till it 
seemed to me they would drop from exhaustion, 
they played games. This was one of them : They 
lined up in couples, then separated in two colunms, 
the girls on one side and the boys on the other, 
with about six feet between the columns. Then 
they danced what I would call ‘ The Virginia Keel ’ 
while they sang : 


“ * There’s a bird in the cage at London, 
So I’ve heard them say. 

There’s a bird in the cage at London, 
So I’ve heard them say. 

He is a secret keeper, 

So I’ve heard them say. 

He is a secret keeper. 

So I’ve heard them say. 



28 


The Mastery of Love 

He keeps ’em in his bosom, 

So I’ve heard them say. 

He keeps ’em in his bosom, 

So I’ve heard them say. 

Swing them London ladies, 

So I’ve heard them say. 

Swing them London ladies, 

So I’ve heard them say.’ 

“ At a late hour we had supper. I was seated 
just opposite the bride and groom. At my left sat 
a woman who did the talking for the crowd. At 
one time, when it seemed everybody w^as listening, 
she said to me : ‘ Hain’t ye never been married ? ’ 
‘jN'o,’ said I. ‘Well, now, I jest tell ye to thank 
yer lucky stars that ye hain’t pestered with no 
devilish man.’ Then noting my confusion she tried 
to better the situation by saying : ‘ I tell ye, I’d 
watch my old man in heaven if he was thar and I 
was thar too. Still, I hain’t got no cause to 
grumble. Eck has made me a purty good man. 
Trouble is he eats too much. But I hev nine of 
as fine children as ye ever set yer eyes on, and I am 
that thankful that they ain’t none of ’em cross- 
eyed ner foolisher.’ 

“In my visiting among the poor, my chief in- 
terest was in the children ; for I knew they would 
respond to kindness and instruction. I have often 
been amazed to find how little it takes to make 
these slum children forget their sorrows. Some- 
times only a smile and a kind word will make the 
whole day seem brighter ; for their real griefs and 
burdens are not those caused by physical privations 


The Settlement Opened in Hell’s Acre 29 

and sufferings, great though they may be, but the 
crushing fear of inhuman treatment, the bitter 
thirst caused by the impoverishment of soul and 
mind, the fierce hunger of the heart for love and 
sympathy. 

“ This fact was further brought out not long since 
when, after several months’ absence from the set- 
tlement, I visited Hell’s Acre again. As I started 
home, having spent the whole morning with the 
children in the sewing classes, a little girl, who had 
been patiently waiting outside the door, timidly 
ventured to ask if she might go with me to the 
street-car. We walked along in comparative 
silence, for she seemed perfectly content with hold- 
ing my hand and pattering along by my side. 
After waiting a few minutes the car swung round 
the corner two blocks away, and I said : ‘ How, 
good-bye. Pearl; run back home to mother, for 
maybe she is wondering what has kept you so long.’ 
The only response was a tightening of the grip on 
my hand. As the car slowed to stop, and with 
another good-bye, I tried to extricate my hand 
from her grasp, she frantically caught my sleeve 
with her other hand and sighed with a voice of 
tremulous appeal. ‘ Kiss me, oh, please kiss me. 
Miss Annette.’ There was no resisting such an 
appeal. I stooped, and taking the pale pinched 
face, with all of its grime, between my hands, 
kissed both cheeks, while a voice within made me 
say : ‘ Pearl, I love you, child, God bless you ! ’ As 
the car sped on towards my home a vision came 


30 


The Mastery of Love 

to me — a vision like Sir Launfal’s, though in the 
form of the beggar girl, I saw the Child of Beth- 
lehem and His words were — ‘ Behold, I stand at 
your door and knock.’ 


“ ‘ Oh, my sisters ! children small, 

Blue-eyed, wailing through the city — 
Our own babes cry in them all : 

Let us take them into pity.’ ” 


II 

Life in Hell’s Acre 




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II 


LIFE IN HELUS ACEE 

O NE of the most important and interesting 
features of the settlement work was that 
of the Eeading-room Association. It was 
an organization of young men whose purpose was 
to afford the means of good reading, amusement 
and fellowship. Every night from seven to ten 
o’clock the room was kept open. A strenuous 
effort was being made to keep the young men in 
the reading-room where they would be away from 
the degrading influences of the cheap saloon and 
theatre. The place became quite popular. Large 
numbers of young men regularly spent a part or all 
of the evening there. The place became so attract- 
ive that the saloons found their patronage was 
falling off because many of their customers had be- 
come regular members of the association. 

Finally some of the saloon-keepers undertook to 
break up these meetings at the settlement. Miss 
Kishnell knew nothing of the scheme till one 
evening when they were in the midst of some in- 
teresting games, Ed Banford appeared at the door. 
For a moment he stood on the threshold as if puz- 
zled to know what to do. Some of the better 
young men in the room looked nervous, others be- 
gan laughing, and one boy called out : “ Hello, 
33 


34 The Mastery of Love 

Bully, this ain’t no saloon.” These words angered 
Banford. He walked into the room swearing and 
threatening to break up the place. In the mean- 
time one of the young men went to Miss Eishnell, 
who was sitting in the rear of the room and said : 
“That’s Ed Banford. You’d better leave the 
room.” She arose and walked deliberately towards 
the cursing man. Several boys called out in a 
subdued voice : “ Come back, Miss Eishnell, come 
back.” Banford didn’t seem to notice her ap- 
proach. He was in the act of lifting a chair as if 
to strike the man who had guyed him at the door, 
when Miss Eishnell spoke to him in a strong but 
kind voice : “ Good-evening, sir. Isn’t this Mr. Ban- 
ford ? ” For a moment the man didn’t say a word ; 
he scarcely moved. As he made no response to her 
question, she continued: “I heard of you some 
time ago and was hoping that you would come to 
our reading-room. W on’t you have a seat ? We are 
playing some games that you may like. ” Banford 
slowly and sullenly sat down in the chair that he 
held. Before he was even well in the chair Miss 
Eishnell called out to the boys to choose their 
partners for a game. While they were doing so^ 
she asked Banford what game he liked to play. 
He replied grimly : “ Euchre.” “ All right,” she 
said without a moment’s hesitation, “ we’ll have a 
game of euchre. Have you any cards ? ” With 
an oath he drew from his pocket a well-worn deck 
and threw them on the table. She called to two 
young men in the room to join her and Banford in 


Life in HelPs Acre 35 

the game. They gathered round the table, she and 
Banford being partners. As they were ready to 
begin, Banford insisted with an oath that he would 
not play unless stakes were put up. “ What ! ” 
said Miss Kishnell, “ you don’t gamble, do you, Mr. 
Banford ? Why, it is wrong to gamble ! ” He 
looked up as if amazed and for a moment wore a 
thoughtful look, and then said with a strained 
smile, “ Yes, sometimes.” “ Well, it’s wrong and 
you ought not to gamble,” came the words with a 
ringing emphasis that made the thing seem ten 
times more wrong. 

The game proceeded. Miss Kishnell did her 
best to make it interesting. She observed later 
that the other men in the room were not playing 
much but were talking in groups and watching 
their game of cards. She wondered what the out- 
come would be ; for she had forbidden the men 
playing cards in the reading-room. She had 
actually burnt up several decks that had been 
brought into the room secretly by boys who wanted 
to play on the sly. How she herself was playing 
euchre ; the very game above all others that she 
had condemned ! She wondered if they would un- 
derstand her object or whether they would distrust 
her ; but she knew there could be no hesitation on 
her part. The battle was on and she was deter- 
mined to save the meanest man in Hell’s Acre. 
The game went merrily on until ten o’clock, when 
Miss Kishnell announced that it was time to close 
the reading-room. She insisted that all should 


36 The Mastery of Love 

come back the next evening and invited Banford to 
join the association. He promised to think about 
it and then they all filed out. 

Miss Kishnell locked the door and hastened up- 
stairs to tell Miss Palmer what had happened. 
“ Ellen, am I gray ? ” Ellen looked up in surprise. 
“ I’ve lived ten years in two hours to-night. I have 
been playing euchre with Ed Banford ! ” Ellen 
jumped to her feet. “ Good heavens, Annette, you 
don’t mean it ! ” After Miss Kishnell had told the 
whole story Ellen was satisfied, but insisted that 
they should take extra precautions to see that the 
doors and windows were securely locked that night. 

On one late winter afternoon about two weeks 
after the Banford episode the following incident oc- 
curred as reported by Miss Kishnell : 

‘‘It was a cold, wet, winter afternoon. The 
mother’s meeting had been dismissed and a com- 
mittee of young women was seated in our warm 
library discussing plans for furnishing a new club 
room, when there was borne to our ears a pathetic 
wail of distress. A peep from the window into the 
gathering darkness did not discover any one, and 
made me feel comfortable enough to sit down and 
resume the pleasant conversation. But again the 
cry came up to our ears, a cry in a thin, childish 
treble, so near, so pitiful as to leave no excuse for 
further delay. 

“ Therefore my unwilling weary feet trudged 
down the dark steps through the long, cold 
schoolroom to the front door. And there, cud- 


Life in Hell’s Acre 


37 


dling in the shelter of the doorway, was fragile, 
six-year-old Addie Dunn, a picture of abject 
poverty and misery. She was bareheaded, and the 
rain that saturated her tangled hair was making 
furrows down her dirty face. Her meagre cloth- 
ing, a waistless skirt and sleeveless apron, was also 
saturated. Her sore bare feet were red with cold. 
As the door opened she crept in, saying : ‘ Is ye dot 
a bottle ? ’ In her benumbed hands she held the 
pieces of a broken bottle which she said she had been 
‘ totin’ to Aunt Emmer’s to git some coal oil, and 
dropped and broke.’ Kothing but the promise of a 
new bottle would stop the crying, because the go- 
ing home without bottle and oil would have 
brought down upon her such a tirade of cursing 
and such a sound thrashing that she trembled at 
the prospect. Poor, unfortunate, little illegitimate, 
brought here without any choice as to where and 
when, and how, and now made to suffer the wrath 
of an inhuman mother’s spite ! I knew her mother 
well, and perhaps for that very reason, though 
with considerable revulsion physically, I took 
Addie to a warm room, bathed her and dressed her 
in some clean, dry clothes, pinned a little mackin- 
tosh cape around her frail shoulders, and a bit of 
warm shawl over her head, placed some picture cards 
in one hand and a new bottle in the other, and 
sent her on her errand radiantly happy. As I 
turned and walked back to my room, my heart 
was filled with an indescribable peace and joy. I 
thanked God and began singing a hymn of praise ,* 


38 The Mastery of Love 

for it seemed I could all but hear the music of 
heaven. 

“ One afternoon, while standing at the door, I 
saw Banford coming down the street. As he 
seemed to be sober, I decided to wait at the door 
to speak to him. When I asked him why he did 
not return to the reading-room he seemed pleased 
and said that he would come some time.” 

A few nights after this invitation, he came. He 
entered the room so quietly that he was scarcely 
observed till he was seated. His face had a 
touch of excitement, not the flush of anger, but the 
look of fear or sadness. The men looked at him 
with evident misgivings. They cast expressive 
looks and smiles at each other as much as to say : 
“We are in for a rough house to-night, boys.” 
They were thinking of the cruel, cursing man that 
they had known in the saloon. He was the same 
man ; but now more like the cowed murderer in 
the prison cell than the deflant highwayman. 

Miss Kishnell was not in the room when Banford 
entered. Usually the boys came early and amused 
themselves till she could come down. They not 
only felt their dependence on her to direct their 
exercises, but she was always the centre of interest 
and attraction. Whatever might be the game, or 
however busy or noisy the conversation and laugh- 
ing, there was a hush of respect almost to the point 
of reverence whenever she entered the room. She 
was unusually late coming down this evening. A 
large company of men were present. The door had 


Life in Helps Acre 


39 


scarcely opened till every face was turned and each 
hastened to say : “ Good-evening, Miss Eishnell ! ” 
or “Good-evening, Miss Annette!” She bowed 
and smiled kindly as she spoke. There always 
seemed to be a peculiar charm about her move- 
ments. She had the art of expressing in her acts 
and looks the strength and sweetness of her inner 
life ; so that it was a delight just to see her walk 
across the room or stand on the platform to sing or 
speak. 

But added to her natural beauty and charm 
she seemed to have this evening a new element of 
interest. It was an indefinable something that 
kept one seeking for the secret. She wore a plain 
black skirt and black silk pongee waist with white 
cuffs and a broad white collar that lay in soft, 
fluffy folds over her shoulders. In her light brown 
hair were two snowy white carnations. What was 
the secret of her new subtle power ? Was it her 
beauty or was it something specially striking in her 
costume ? Ulot that, for while these pleased, they 
made almost an unconscious impression compared 
with something spiritual. There was a hallowed 
influence that threw a spell over every one and 
made the place seem sacred because of her presence. 

She moved about the room shaking hands till she 
came to Banford. Whether he too was inspired to 
honor her or whether he simply followed the ex- 
ample of the others, he arose when she approached. 
She shook hands and spoke with the grace and 
dignity of a very queen, and then sat down, talking 


40 The Mastery of Love 

to him interestedly. As she sat there conversing 
with that vulgar, profane, drunken criminal with 
his soiled clothes, uncombed hair and sin-blighted 
soul, the scene was like a consultation between the 
envoys of heaven and hell. There was a rifle aim 
purposefulness and even prayerful expression in her 
appearance, while he seemed nervous, excited and 
troubled. E^ow and then he smiled as if through a 
great grief. This conversation continued quite a 
while. Then Miss Eishnell excused herself and 
gave attention to directing the games. 

All was moving pleasantly when suddenly Mrs. 
Sharpe entered the room in great excitement and 
made a “ bee line ” for Miss Eishnell. She whis- 
pered in her ear that Ed Banford was in the room 
and that she ought to send for a police for fear he 
might do some harm. She also came fearing that 
her son, Caxton, who was in the room, might be- 
come involved in a difficulty with Banford. Miss 
Eishnell asked Mrs. Sharpe to wait a few minutes 
since it would soon be time to close the room. She 
went to the piano, asking all present to join her in 
singing “ The Beautiful Isle of Somewhere.” 

During the singing, Mrs. Sharpe stood close to 
Miss Eishnell at the piano as if to guard her from 
some suspected danger. When the song ended, the 
signal was given for the reading-room to be closed. 
As Miss Eishnell walked to the door and shook 
hands with some strangers and Banford as they 
passed out, Mrs. Sharpe appeared to be amazed. 

The door was closed and Miss Eishnell turned to 


Life in Hell's Acre 


41 


speak to Mrs. Sharpe who was standing in the 
room waiting in evident distress of mind. The 
door had scarcely closed when Mrs. Sharpe cried 
out : “ Lan’ sakes, child,” addressing Miss Kishnell, 
“ ain’t you skeered of that man ? ” “ What man ? ” 

replied Miss Eishnell. “ Why, that man Banford. 
He’s the man I told you about. He is the man 
that went by here drunk, slingin’ the big knife. 
Don’t you know I told you about him ? Why, that 
man’s so crooked he could hide behind a cork-screw. 
I sometimes believe he’s the Old Hick himself.” 
Miss Kishnell replied : “ Mrs. Sharpe, I recall your 
visit. I remember what you said about Banford, 
and I resolved then that I would do my utmost to 
turn him from his sinful life to become a Christian. 
I have been praying for him every daj^ since. Be- 
fore I came to the reading-room this evening, I 
heard that he was down here. So I lingered in 
prayer that God might baptize me with His pity 
and love for the sinful and that I might be enabled 
to make Banford feel the reality of the Christian 
spirit in my life. I have determined to lead him to 
become a Christian if it is the last thing I ever do.” 

Mrs. Sharpe exclaimed : “ Lawsy mercy, child I 
Why don’t you try to convert the devil ? You 
could turn hell into a camp-meetin’ before that 
man gits religin ! ” “Well, Mrs. Sharpe, do you 
believe in prayer ? ” asked Miss Kishnell. “ Do you 
really believe God answers prayer ? ” There was 
some hesitation, then she replied emphatically: 
“ That I do, child. Before Caxton was born I 


42 The Mastery of Love 

prayed the Lord that he might not be another gal. 
’Cause we had our hearts on havin’ a change. All 
our seven kids was gals. So when I saw another 
was a-comin’ I just prayed and prayed to the good 
Lord to hold up on gals and He did. And Caxton 
is that boy.” Here Miss Kishnell interrupted to 
say : “ Well, Mrs. Sharpe, I want you to help me 
pray that Banford will become a Christian. Won’t 
you?” With a promise from Mrs. Sharpe they 
bade each other good-night. 

Mrs. Sharpe ran across the street to her home, 
eager to tell her husband what had happened. He 
had a great admiration for Miss Kishnell and was 
very credulous. When Mrs. Sharpe told him about 
Miss Kishnell’s earnest prayers for Banford and of 
her determination to work for his conversion, he 
felt sure something akin to the miraculous was 
about to take place. The next evening he made it 
a point to search for Banford in order that he might 
tell him of Miss Kishnell’s intercessions. He seemed 
to think that he was somewhat in the position of 
one who had been told the secret of a prophecy 
even before it was proclaimed to the public. He 
searched high and low but failed to locate Banford. 
Mr. Sharpe kept on the lookout and about a week 
later saw Banford standing in front of a saloon 
and went to him at once as if he had some im- 
portant business engagement. Calling him aside, 
he told of Miss Kishnell’s prayers for him and of 
her determination to lead him to become a Chris- 
tian. The man burst out into a forced laugh, 


Life in Hell’s Acre 


43 


almost hysterical. At the close of the conversa- 
tion Mr. Sharpe made a very emphatic appeal in 
these words : “ Banford, remember that woman 

is prayin’ fer you, and you had better git in shape, 
’cause God’s on your trail.” With this he left him 
and walked on down the street, wondering what 
would be the effect of his first effort at personal 
work. For several nights Mr. Sharpe was the first 
at the reading-room, evidently expecting Banford. 

A week passed, two weeks, and two months, but 
Banford was not seen nor even heard of by the 
members of the Keading-room Association. 

Everybody seemed interested to know what 
had become of him. Some one reported that he 
had gone to Memphis to take a job in a factory. 
Others laughed at the idea, for he had never been 
known to work. It was generally agreed in the 
association that wherever he might be he was cer- 
tainly not looking for work. Another conjecture 
was that the relatives of the negro whom he killed 
had threatened to shoot him and consequently he 
had left the city. After he had been gone for some 
time, the people of the community actually seemed 
to breathe easier because this terrible man was no 
longer seen on the streets. 

Banford’s education was in the school of the 
street. By inheritance as well as by training, he 
was a criminal. Unfortunately, "too, public senti- 
ment is all opposed to the proper development of 
the boys of the slum. The odds are all against 
them and always against them. 


44 The Mastery of Love 

Banford is simply a type of thousands of slum 
boys who are the victims of a prejudiced public. 
People seem to assume that a boy is mean simply 
because he lives in a slum. They do not expect 
to find anything good in him, so his whole life 
is soon bent by that general expectation. The 
tendency of parents, of teachers, of police officers, 
and even of strangers is to misconstrue the motives 
and the actions of the street urchins. They forget 
that these children have not yet learned the differ- 
ence between a fact and a fancy. They call the 
slum boy a liar because of his imagination, or a 
thief because of his effort at self-preservation. How 
can a slum child know correct standards of moral- 
ity? His whole life is weighted down with a 
vicious inheritance, his moral sense is blighted, and 
the very air he breathes is so poisonous that he 
grows inevitably to be a criminal. 

Sometimes a boy’s best efforts at courtesy, and 
service, and even personal sacrifice are but a miser- 
able failure in the eyes of an adult, but he should 
at least be praised for the effort. Society has some- 
how grown into the pernicious way of thinking that 
a boy is a necessary evil till he has safely passed 
the period of adolescence. But the fact is that 
during these years more than at any other period of 
his life the good impulses are struggling for suprem- 
acy. Those who are hoping and working for the 
establishment of juvenile criminal courts realize 
that our laws in their present administration too 
often simply take knowledge of the overt act, and 


Life in Helps Acre 


45 


not of the motive ; consequently, grave errors are 
often made in the arrest, detention and condemna- 
tion of juvenile offenders. 

The following very graphic illustration of the 
facts set forth in the preceding paragraph is told by 
Miss Kishnell : 

“ The manager of the Boys’ Department of the 
Young Men’s Christian Association sent an invita- 
tion to our boys of the night school to spend an 
evening with them. Seventeen of the crudest, but 
not the most ungovernable, of our boys responded 
and I accompanied them. The personnel of the 
group included the following — Sheepie, the washed- 
out blond ; Dinkey, the undersized fellow ; Spar- 
row, the brown-eyed pest ; Bully, the overbear- 
ing boy ; Christian, the long-faced, quiet lad ; Fizz, 
the soda-pop drinker ; Hunk, the inveterate chewer ; 
Pap, the bossie fellow ; Toddles, a bow-legged chap ; 
Piddlety, the idler, and Squint, the cross-eyed boy. 
A most enjoyable evening had been planned for the 
boys, with games, the phonograph, the privileges of 
the gymnasium and the swimming pool. The fes- 
tivities were closed with a bountiful supper, at which 
the boys revealed their ignorance and lack of train- 
ing by eating the fruit first, by insisting on know- 
ing the ingredients of a nut salad before they would 
taste it, and by obstinately refusing to eat the 
chicken pie till ‘ dessert time.’ We started home at 
eleven o’clock. It was a raw winter night and our 
district was fully twenty-five blocks away. Still, 
as only three or four fellows had the necessary car- 


46 The Mastery of Love 

fare, gang like, they all determined to ‘ foot it,’ 
and asked to be arranged in an orderly rank with 
a captain, and allowed to march soldier fashion. 
When they were safely off with promises of good 
behavior, I took a car and hurried to the settlement. 
I had been there but about twenty minutes when 
there was a vicious pull at the bell and an excited 
voice called me again and again. 

“ Hastily going down, I found Alex Britt, the 
big sixteen-year-old boy who had been appointed 
captain of the group, standing there trembling 
in excitement. The puzzled look on my face 
brought forth the explanation of his call. ‘ Most 
of the boys is done been ’rested.’ ‘ What for ? ’ 
was my anxious inquiry. And he went on to say — 
‘ Fer nuthin’, just nuthin’ ’tall. We were marchin’ 
’long Front Street sayin’ hep-hep-hep, when a cop 
who had nuthin’ else to do come up and said, “ What 
devilment are yer up to now ? I’m goin’ to ’rest 
the last hide of yer.” Some of the boys got so 
skeert they begun runnin’. I told the perlice we 
had been to a party at the Y. M. C. A. and he said, 
“ The devil yer have ! ” and caught hold of Sheepie. 
Then I run, and all the rest run, but he caught 
some of the fellers.’ 

“ What a spell of weather ! Alex was dismissed 
with instructions to hasten home, and I went to 
the ’phone, called up police headquarters and 
found, sure enough, that five of the hapless boys 
had just been brought in with no other charge than 
that they were marching along the street at such 


Life in HelPs Acre 47 

a late hour, appearing to be up to some mischief, 
and could give no better account of their where- 
abouts than that they had been to the Y. M. C. A. 
My explanation, given to the sergeant, with refer- 
ence to the Y. M. C. A. for confirmation, secured 
the release of the boys. The next night the boys 
expressed very fully and freely their indignation at 
not being believed, and vowed to get even with that 
policeman some way. Their conversation also 
brought out the fact that they believed the police, 
called ‘ Chiggers ’ or ‘ Dominickers,’ were paid so 
much for every arrest made, and that their whole 
business was to apprehend the unwary. 

“ That was a case in which a juvenile criminal 
court would have stood for the protection and vin- 
dication of boys misapprehended. The following 
incident reveals the need of such a tribunal for the 
conviction and punishment of a child who was 
really a criminal of an advanced type. 

“ Sally was a girl of only twelve years, of whom 
reports came to me again and again ‘ that she was 
going plum to the bad.’ Finally the grandmother 
and an uncle came to me asking that she be sent to 
the reform school; for she had run away from 
home and was then staying with people of very dis- 
reputable character. The child was visited several 
times in the hope of getting her to return home. 
The man who was boarding her said one day : ‘ If 
you ’uns don’t quit gravitating (aggravating) this 
gal, we ’uns ’ill make it hard fer yer.’ A day or 
so later, when I called to use my persuasive powers, 


48 The Mastery of Love 

he told me to leave in the following way : ‘ ’JSTnff 
has ben sed. Sally hain’t a-goin’ with yer as long 
as I can he’p it. You’d better take ter the hole the 
carpenter left ’ (pointing to the door). There was 
that in his voice that made me leave. So as a last 
resort, the aunt issued a warrant of arrest, and after 
several days’ search, Sally was found and brought 
by a policeman to the settlement to be carried to 
the reformatory. 

“ That was in November. In a short time 
Sally’s father came and demanded that she be dis- 
missed from the school to keep house for him. 
She came, stayed with him three weeks and ran 
away again, this time with a vicious boy to a low 
boarding-house. There I visited her, and with much 
persuasion got her to come to live with us to an- 
swer bells, ’phone, etc., for her board and clothing. 
Sally was put on her honor, began some studies and 
music lessons, became more gentle and pleasing in 
manner, and seemed to be satisfied and doing 
nicely. 

“ During Christmas week while we were engaged 
in some decorating in the club rooms, Sally was 
sent to my room to bring the scissors from the 
dresser drawer. She returned in a few moments, 
looking excited, and stated that the house had been 
burglarized. An investigation showed that every 
drawer of dresser, stand and wardrobe and table, 
not only in my room but also in the other rooms, 
had been gone through, yet nothing was missing but 
$15.25 from what I had considered a very secret 


Life in Hell's Acre 


49 

place in my dresser drawer. The news spread and 
a detective arrived shortly. He took in the sit- 
uation at once and wanted to search Sally and a 
boy who was doing some painting in the school- 
room. This, to his amusement, I indignantly re- 
fused to have done, saying that they were to me as 
children, and I would protect their honor in the 
community by not even subjecting them to a false 
suspicion. However, at his earnest solicitation, I 
agreed to keep a ‘ close eye ’ on Sally for several 
days. During nearly two weeks the matter was 
frequently discussed in her presence, but only once 
did we detect any nervousness on her part. Then 
she was discovered one morning going through a 
private drawer, and at the same time some more 
money was missing. 

“ My suspicions were for the first time aroused, 
and I questioned her very carefully and dealt 
very firmly with her. The whole matter was 
made known to the grandmother, uncle, and aunt^ 
whose vigilance was requested to help in either 
clearing or apprehending Sally. At the end of 
another week the grandmother came and with tears 
of shame told me that she had learned the whole 
disgraceful story, how that Sally had not only 
stolen the money but was then planning to run 
away again with that dreadful boy and marry. 
Indeed, for that very purpose had she stolen the 
money. Her appeal to me to prevent the second 
trouble by having Sally dealt with for the criminal 
offense was very pathetic. What was to be done ? 


50 The Mastery of Love 

Sally was only fourteen years old, but truly edu- 
cated in crime. A talk with her in the hope of 
getting a confession only brought forth a shower 
of curses upon myself and the grandmother, and 
made her leave that night for the former disreputa- 
ble house. The next morning the city attorney, 
the judge of the city court, and the judge of the 
county court were consulted. Their advice was 
that I suffer Sally to be arrested, get her confession, 
let the city court turn the case over to the criminal 
court, then, as she was a minor, withdraw charges 
on the basis that the criminal court place her in 
the hands of the county judge to be sent again to 
the reformatory. With considerable reluctance, I 
agreed to pursue this course ; for it seemed to be 
the only hope of saving the child. 

“ Sally was arrested and carried to the work- 
house where she refused to talk, except to abuse 
every one in sight and deny the charges. So it was 
necessary to keep her there over night, a thing she 
thought I would not allow to be done : and it was 
a hard thing for me to permit ; one for which I was 
condemned as ‘ having not one spark of Christian- 
ity.’ A committee of women from a certain church, 
led by Mrs. Millburn, even went so far as to wait 
upon me and ask me to release the child, on condi- 
tion that they would collect and refund the money 
she had stolen. They made quite a stir, and ‘ wrote 
me up’ for the paper that evening. Well, Sally 
made her confession that night at about ten-thirty, 
when she thought that we really meant to let the 


Life in HelPs Acre 


51 

law take its course. Her case was called first next 
morning in the city court. I was with her about 
an hour before time and accompanied her to the 
court room. Arrangements had all been made, 
and in five minutes she was sent to the criminal 
court, where, after all charges were withdrawn, she 
was made the ward of the county and sentenced to 
the reformatory. 

“ While we were waiting for the necessary legal 
documents to be prepared, and for a carriage to 
take us to the school, this same committee of zeal- 
ous women appeared, and finding that she was 
really guilty, Mrs. Millburn simperingly asked her 
why she stole the money. Her reply was such that 
it fully satisfied the committee and further awak- 
ened their sympathy, but it revealed to me a depth 
of depravity to which I could scarcely have be- 
lieved she had fallen. She said she was needing 
clothes, particularly shoes, and she was having to 
miss Sunday-school for the lack of them. That was 
the middle of January, and for Christmas she had 
gotten from members of our household shoes, a 
dress, fascinator, gloves and hose. 

“Again, the misguided, conceited, and over- 
zealous church committee were undoing all that the 
court and I were trying so hard to accomplish. 
Here was a criminal who had betrayed confidence, 
abused S3rmpathy, and manifested the most obdu- 
rate temper. We were striving to save the girl 
from a life of crime by making real to her the 
power and sacredness of law and by bringing her 


52 The Mastery of Love 

to realize the heinousness of her sins. On the 
other hand the would-be church reformers, who 
knew less about the science of criminology than the 
girl herself, were by their tears and expressions of 
condolence making the girl feel that she was not a 
criminal at all, but that I and the court were 
criminal in thus abusing a ‘ little helpless girl.’ It 
requires more than water and sand to build a house, 
and more than tears and pity to build character. 

“ Sally remained at the school about fifteen 
months, then escaped and married the partner of 
her crime. How, at the age of seventeen, she is 
anxiously and rebeUiously looking forward to the 
birth of her second child. Her husband has been 
brutal and unkind to her, and left her twice in 
great distress and poverty. 

“ Do you wonder how a girl so young could have 
become so mature in crime ? If you were only fa- 
miliar with the daily, hourly educative forces that 
are being exerted in these human warrens of the 
congested blocks and overcrowded wards, where the 
greatest hero is the fellow who can commit the 
blackest crime and escape the law, you would not 
be so surprised. For example, a bright little girl 
of seven came to the class one morning with a black 
eye and bruised face and made this quaint explana- 
tion : ‘ I ist had a fight with Katie and she whupped 
me. Katie lives next door. She is ist my size. I 
low to kill her next time. ... We us ted to 
fight ev’ry week, but we is a-gittin’ better now, 
’cause we most usual fights ist wunst a month.’ If 


Life in Hell’s Acre 


53 

you had heard that, you would then have some idea 
of how short the path is from innocent childhood 
to bitter hatred, vengeance, theft and murder. 

“ When one is battling against such an array of 
evil factors in a life, he is often led to ask, — ‘ How 
is it possible that any life begotten in the image of 
God can descend to such depths as to be scarcely 
one remove from brute creation ? ’ The answer, if 
one is to be found, has to be sought in the working 
forces that surround that life at its beginning. 
These often cannot well be determined, and so one 
has to grope on, working against heavy odds, 
against the unknown forces of heredity and en- 
vironment. Still, as one is constantly dealing with 
the factors that influence character in the lives that 
are just beginning life’s struggle, one can estimate 
what the influence of the parent must have been, 
and will then be more lenient in his judgment and 
more tender in his dealings. 

Think, for instance, what will be the future of 
the lives, the flnished product of the character be- 
gun as these examples indicate. Then remember 
that thousands of lives of our American poor are 
beginning with just such a heritage of sin and en- 
vironment. 

“ Mrs. Territt was the mother of three small chil- 
dren and looking forward to the birth of a fourth 
in six months, when Mr. Territt died. His death 
left her not only as the sole support of her children, 
but also to provide for an aged, blind father and an 
eight-year-old brother. She began work in a cotton 


54 The Mastery of Love 

mill, leaving the children with her father, or run- 
ning wild on the streets. Her work continued until 
the very day of the birth of her fourth child when 
she was carried to the hospital. During the ten 
days of her confinement there, she unburdened her 
heart to me as her friend. How could she work 
now ? There was no one with whom she could 
leave her little ones. With tears in her eyes and at 
the same time clasping the babe close to her throb- 
bing heart, she had asked — ‘ Must I give my darling 
away, so that I can go to work and feed the 
others ? ’ I had let her determine what she could 
best do, and her decision had been to send the baby 
to the Children’s Home without so much as a name. 

“ She loved her baby. It was like tearing her 
heart out to give it away, but she felt sure that 
that was the only way to save its life. 

“ One day, just as I was getting ready to visit 
Mrs. Territt at the hospital, in order to get her 
child and place it in the Children’s Home, Mrs. 
Millburn and Lillian drove up to the settlement 
door. After we had exchanged a few words, she 
observed that I was on the point of leaving the 
settlement when they arrived. ‘ Were you not 
starting somewhere ? ’ she asked. I replied that I 
had started to the hospital to get a little baby to 
take to the Children’s Home. She insisted that I 
should get in her carriage and let her go with me. 
As I stepped into the carriage, Lillian looked pleased 
and I could not resist the temptation to kiss her 
cheek. 


Life in Hell’s Acre 


55 


“ Before reaching the hospital, I turned from my 
conversation with Mrs. Millburn, who had been 
telling me about her missionary meeting, and asked 
Lillian why she didn’t come to see me. She seemed 
very glad at the suggestion. Her mother made no 
response, but rather appeared slightly irritated that 
I had interrupted her narration of the missionary 
meeting to do such an insignificant thing as to 
show some attention to her daughter. When we 
got to the hospital, Mrs. Millburn spoke to Lillian, 
almost as she would have addressed a servant. 
‘ Lillian, you stay here ; girls like you have no busi- 
ness in a hospital.’ Lillian quietly stepped back 
into the carriage, without saying a word, but her 
face looked pained and disappointed. 

When we entered the ward Mrs. Territt, 
knowing the object of my visit, drew her child 
to her heart. As we approached the bed she 
began to look fierce. I almost felt afraid of her ; 
for as she caressed the little head, pillowed, as she 
thought, for the last time, on her breast, there 
seemed to be sweeping over her the bitterest feel- 
ings of resentment. She began cursing humanity 
for the selfish greed that had robbed her of all but 
a mere subsistence. She cursed God like a maniac. 
Just here Mrs. Millburn broke in by saying ; ‘ My 
dear woman, you mustn’t swear. Don’t you know 
it’s wrong to swear ? You need to pray.’ She 
looked up without saying a word for some moments, 
stroking the child lovingly all the while, and then, 
looking down at her baby, she started off in a 


56 The Mastery of Love 

soliloquy. ‘ Dearie, ma can’t help it. Ma would 
keep you if she could. Oh, it’ll kill your ma yet. 

D it, how can I let you go ? ’ Then she kissed 

the little forehead and turning her face up stared 
for a moment at us, and began swearing again. 

“ Before I could speak, Mrs. Millburn leaned 
over and said : ‘ Don’t you want us to pray for 
you ? ’ ‘ Pray for me ? ’ she shouted. ‘ What have 

I done ? You must be one of them church- 

members. Say, you look powerful dressed up and 
good. How’d you feel layin’ down here in my 
fix? I’m here and can’t work and down home 
are three young ’uns and my pa, and he’s blind. 
I worked hard to git grub fer ’em. But now I’m 
here and they’re hungry and I know it.’ Mrs. 
Millburn spoke up again : ‘ That’s aU true, and 
you ought to carry your burdens to the Lord.’ 
Mrs. Territt started to speak and then hesitating 
slightly said: ‘Don’t the Lord know more than 
I can tell Him ? Guess He don’t care fer a poor 
woman like me, neither.’ ‘ Yes, He does care,’ re- 
plied Mrs. Millburn, ‘ Jesus is here now and wants 
to help you and He will forgive your sins and bless 
you if you will only pray.’ Mrs. Territt looked 

angry. ‘ Sins ? D it ! It ain’t sins that’s 

worryin’ me ; it’s hungry kids and I can’t work 
fer grub.’ 

“ Up to this time I had felt helpless and so let 
the conversation drift. Then I drew up a chair 
and addressed myself to Mrs. Territt as gently as 
possible : ‘ That is all right, Mrs. Territt. I got 


Life in HelPs Acre 57 

breakfast for the children this morning and they 
are playing down at the settlement now and your 
father is sitting in a rocker on the porch ; he is all 
right. I am going to be a mother to your children 
till you can come home.’ 

“ Her face lighted up slightly, then an expres- 
sion of deep thought, as she began speaking quietly : 
‘ And you got breakfast f er ’em ? And you took 
pa a rocker ? Well, I thought maybe you would 
look after ’em. You hain’t got no children, have 
you ? ’ ‘ Ho,’ I replied, ‘ but I’ll be a mother to 

your children while you are here.’ She looked 
straight into my eyes as if she had suddenly dis- 
covered something and her eyes began to swim in 
tears. ‘ Why are you so kind to us ? ’ she said, 
with her chin quivering. ‘ Because I love you ! ’ 
I replied. She extended her hand nervously to me 
as the tears coursed down her cheeks, and reaching 
over the head of her baby with the other hand 
held her face sobbing. I tried to comfort her by 
saying : ‘ Mrs. Territt, don’t cry this way. I’ll do 
what I can for you.’ She wept all the more. 
Then as she continued to sob, Mrs. Millburn leaned 
over and spoke to me in an undertone : ‘ Shouldn’t 
we pray for her anyway ? ’ I said nothing, but 
simply shook my head. 

“ In a few moments Mrs. Territt reached over 
and taking hold of the corner of the sheet wiped 
her eyes slowly and deliberately. Her face 
appeared calm and refreshed as she looked down 
at her baby, gently stroking its tiny head. ‘ Miss 


58 The Mastery of Love 

Kishnell, I guess you don’t understand,’ she said. 
‘ I didn’t know anybody loved me or cared fer me. 
It hurts me to think you are so kind to me and 

I’m so bad. Do you think ’ But she did not 

finish the sentence. Knowing that it was not the 
time to take the child, I said : ‘ Mrs. Territt, I’m not 
going to take the baby to-day ; you keep it here and 
I’ll care for your home and come back to-morrow.’ 

“ The next evening when I called for the baby 
the struggle was over. The mother’s sacrifice was 
complete even though she had expressed the hope 
before that her child ‘ might live to make trouble 
fer them as is rich.’ We started to say good-bye 
but she held my hand and looked at me as if she 
had forgotten something that she was trying to re- 
call and in a moment spoke scarcely above a whis- 
per : ‘ Won’t you pray for me. Miss Kishnell ? 

You know how I feel.’ 

“ As I knelt there I tried to pray so as to lead her 
to believe in the love of God, that all my efforts in 
her behalf were made because my life had been 
baptized with the love of Christ. As we then said 
good-bye, she sweetly smiled and said : ‘ I am glad 
you prayed. Miss Kishnell ; you make me want to 
be good.’ As we walked away she called, ‘ Don’t 
git skeert if Buddie has a spell.’ 

‘‘By previous arrangement Mrs. Millburn and 
Lillian met me at the hospital with their carriage. 
We took the baby and started to the nursery. 
On the way Lillian insisted on holding it in her 
arms. Then she began to beg her mother to let 


Life in Hell’s Acre 


59 


her take the baby home with her. Mrs. Millburn 
seemed not to understand Lillian’s feelings at all, 
but answered her pleadings with a scolding. On 
reaching the Children’s Home, Lillian was reluc- 
tant to give up the child. She appeared to be com- 
forted, however, by my asking her to come out to 
the settlement and help me take care of the other 
children. 

“ Only a few months after dealing with the case 
above, there occurred in our immediate vicinity two 
shocking cases of infanticide — one was pre-natal 
murder, and the other the deliberate destruction of 
an unwelcome little one by casting it into the high 
weeds by the railroad. During the same week, a 
policeman on a neighboring beat found one night a 
pitiful babe of about four months lying in a basket 
in an alley, starved, emaciated, almost naked and 
heavily drugged with an opiate. It, also, was car- 
ried to the hospital, and after weeks of medical at- 
tention and careful nursing was seemingly restored 
to health and sent to the Children’s Home. All it 
had to carry with it into the new home, where it 
must necessarily lose its identity in the crowd and 
live without the knowledge of parental love, — the 
millstone around its neck, — those inherited tend- 
encies to vice and crime. Let us not conjecture 
what its future may be. 

“ In delineating instances that portray the silent 
but potent factors in character-making, here is one 
that seems to sum up all theories into one concrete 
example. 


6o The Mastery of Love 

“Julia, the daughter of a very poor, illiterate 
woman, and the granddaughter of a woman who, 
according to her own statement, had ‘ not lived a 
bee-line life,’ was married at the age of fourteen 
years and eight months to a coarse, gruff, illiterate 
and intemperate man six years her senior. Before 
they were married quite seven months a boy was 
born, and Julia went into a rapid decline of health. 
Her grandmother, familiarly known all over the 
district as ‘ Granny Cassity,’ was brought in to care 
for the sick mother and keep house, and then what 
time she had over, to look after little Billy. In 
four months Julia was much improved but Billy 
seemed to be growing smaller, more weazened and 
stupid every day. I had serious doubts about his 
being fed enough. So one day in a final effort to 
ascertain the cause of his decline, the truth was 
wrung from Julia, — ‘ He was bothersome and fret- 
ful and Granny didn’t like to care fer him, so she 
has been givin’ him dope.’ The old lady was 
called to the room and questioned and this was her 
answer : ‘Well, now, land sakes ! I don’t give him 
much.’ Then taking from the old shawl around 
her shoulders a pin with a head an eighth of an inch 
in diameter and thrusting it into her mouth, she 
continued to say, ‘ I just wet the pin and put the 
head in my dope box, and give him the bit that 
sticks to it.’ A doctor was called, and Billy’s case, 
which was now serious, was carefully dealt with for 
weeks. As a moral consciousness could not be 
awakened in Granny, we had to appeal to the power 


Life in Hell’s Acre 


6i 


of law to prevent her dosing him again. Billy is 
over two years old now, is no larger than a child 
nine months old, can neither walk nor talk, is very 
stupid at times, and very ungovernable at others, 
and in every way bids fair to produce a fine speci- 
men of the stunted, squalid, criminal growth of a 
city’s slum where the surroundings all tend to 
blight and shrivel the soul.” 




Ill 

Reality Winning the Worst 





% 



1 







Ill 


REALITY WINNING THE WORST 

O NE evening, late in September, while the 
reading-room was well filled with men 
engaged in playing games and reading, 
the sound of a pistol shot near by caused every man 
to break for the door. During this scramble sev- 
eral other shots were heard in rapid succession. 
In an instant two policemen dashed by the door 
running in the direction of the shooting. Soon 
the room was empty but for Miss Rishnell, Miss 
Palmer and a few invited friends from up town. 
They chatted along, wondering what might be the 
trouble. Presently a crowd was heard approach- 
ing. As Miss Rishnell stepped to the door the 
policemen passed holding between them a hand- 
cuffed man — Banford. 

It was later learned that he was on his way to 
the reading-room when he got into a fight with 
some negro men, one of whom he shot, making a 
flesh wound in his shoulder. The next day this 
negro was found and also arrested. It turned out 
that he was the brother of the boy whom Banford 
had cut to death more than a year before. Banford 
was tried and fined fifty dollars for assault with 
intent to commit murder. He had no money and 
65 


66 The Mastery of Love 

he had no friend in the wide world ; so he was sent 
to prison. 

Miss Eishnell watched the case with very keen 
interest. When she heard that Banford had been 
sent to jail to work out his fine in the chain 
gang, she called Miss Palmer to her room. They 
discussed the matter and then prayed together. 
Miss Eishnell had the habit of doing after she 
prayed what she felt was her duty while she 
prayed, regardless of cost or consequences. So she 
arose from the prayer and went to the telephone 
and made an engagement to see J ohn McGregor. 
She hastened down to his ofiice, passing the bank 
on her way, where she got a check cashed for fifty 
dollars. She went to this lawyer and asked him 
to go as her representative and pay the fine for 
Banford and ask him to come to the settlement. 
He hesitated for a while, questioning the propriety 
of her act. He then offered to pay the fine him- 
self, but Miss Eishnell insisted that her plan should 
be carried out. He then wanted to know about 
the settlement, and inquired into its methods of 
work. 

As he seemed so very interested. Miss Eishnell 
invited him to visit the settlement reading-room, 
which he promised to do. He assured her that 
he would go at once and secure Banford’s release. 
She returned in haste to the settlement and re- 
ported to Miss Palmer what she had done. Miss 
Palmer was greatly excited and threatened to 
leave the place if Banford was coming. Then she 


Reality Winning the Worst 67 

demanded that they call in a policeman for protec- 
tion. Miss Rishnell suggested that they telephone 
the Methodist preacher tv ho was boarding near to 
come down and sit in the adjoining room till Ban- 
ford had left. They also sent for Mrs. Sharpe. 
She pleaded for Miss Rishnell to notify the fire- 
men’s hall of what was going on and ask that a 
policeman should at least keep in calling distance 
of the settlement if Banford came. The policeman 
was instructed and soon the preacher came. He 
proceeded to condemn the whole effort as out- 
rageous and said it would be worse than scandalous 
to allow Banford to call under any circumstances. 

Miss Rishnell explained more fully and urged 
him to let Banford come, especially since she had 
already inTdted him through the lawyer. He re- 
luctantly consented, but insisted that a grave mis- 
take had been made. He claimed that the man 
ought to go on and work out his fine, that he ought 
to be put in the penitentiary and kept there. He 
even went so far as to say that he was not sure but 
that the man ought to be hanged. When he made 
this statement Miss Rishnell’s face grew more 
serious than ever, and then with a mingled look of 
grief and pity and prayer she asked a question that 
in itself reveals the secret of her beautiful charac- 
ter. She said: “Brother Booker, do you believe 
the Saviour wants that man hanged ? Don’t yon 
think Jesus would be kind to him ? ” Fortunately 
Mr. Booker was relieved of the necessity of answer- 
ing this question by the ringing of the telephone. 


68 The Mastery of Love 

After answering the call, Miss Eishnell made the 
request that she be allowed to meet Banford at the 
door alone and take him up to the library which 
also served as a drawing-room. She asked that 
Miss Palmer wait in the library and that Mr. 
Booker and Mrs. Sharpe sit in the adjoining room 
with the side door open. With this arrangement 
Banford would observe on passing through the hall 
that other persons were in the building and yet the 
library would be sufficiently private for him to 
speak without reserve. They had to wait quite a 
while and Mr. Booker had become impatient, and 
even suggested that Banford was probably then in 
some saloon with no thought of coming and with 
no gratitude for Miss Bishnell’s kindness in paying 
his fine. He was on the point of leaving when the 
door-bell rang. Miss Palmer clasped her hands 
and exclaimed : “ Oh, mercy ! I believe I’ll have to 
scream ! ” Miss Kishnell went down to the door, 
while the rest waited in great anxiety. On open- 
ing the door, however, she was surprised to see, 
not Banford, but a policeman. He hastened to 
ask if it was true that Banford was expected there. 
Miss Kishnell said she was expecting him any mo- 
ment. Thereupon he insisted that he had better 
stay ; for Banford was such a terrible character, it 
would not be safe for the ladies to be in the build- 
ing alone. Mrs. Sharpe had been looking out the 
window above and listening to this statement of 
the policeman. Ho sooner had he offered his serv- 
ices than Mrs. Sharpe called out : “ That’s what I 


Reality Winning the Worst 69 

say, Miss Rishnell. We’ll need the cop here. I 
’spect we’ll need the amberlance, too.” Miss Rish- 
nell called up assuring her that all would turn out 
well. She then urged the policeman to leave the 
settlement but to wait in a drug store on the next 
corner in case he might be needed. 

When Miss Rishnell returned and told of her in- 
structions to the policeman, Mrs. Sharpe arose and 
said : “ Golly, I’m that sheered, I wish my man 
was here. I feel like I was settin’ up at my own 
funeral.” Mr. Booker laughed at their excitement, 
saying that Banford had his fine paid and they 
would never see him at the settlement any more. 
He then turned to Miss Rishnell and proceeded to 
give a lecture, saying that she had no right to allow 
such a man to even come to the settlement, that he 
was not fit for decent people to associate with and 
that if she was not more discreet she would break 
up the institution. While he was still condemning 
her efforts in behalf of Banford, the door-bell rang. 
Mrs. Sharpe sprang to the window and looked 
down. “ Darned if he ain’t there ! ” she exclaimed 
in a half whisper. Miss Rishnell asked that her 
plans be carried out and then went to the door. 
She smiled as she shook his hand and said : “ Mr. 
Banford, how are you to-day ? I am glad to see 
you. Come in.” He hesitated and then stepped 
back. “ Ho ! ” he said in a tremulous voice, “ I 

ain’t fit. I just wanted to tell you ” Miss 

Rishnell interrupted him by saying, “ Oh, that’s all 
right, come in a moment. I want to talk with 


'JO The Mastery of Love 

you.” He reluctantly entered and at her request 
preceded her up the steps. Scarcely were they 
seated in the library, when Mr. Booker very un- 
ceremoniously walked in. Miss Kishnell introduced 
him to Banford, who remained sitting. Banford 
then broke out in a sort of soliloquy : “ Miss Eish- 
nell, Mr. McGregor told me you paid my fine and 
that I ought to be a better man. I ought. I told 
him I was goin’ to kill myself. But I ain’t. I’m 
goin’ to pay you first.” He had not looked up, 
his face was drooped till his chin almost touched 
his breast. He went on : ‘‘ If you knew how 

mean I’ve been you would want me hung. I 
reckon I ought to be. But I’m goin’ to work and 
pay you back. I thought everybody hated me, 
but I guess you don’t. Ain’t there somethin’ I can 
do here to help you till I can git a job ? I feel 

like I ought to ” Miss Bishnell interrupted to 

say : ‘‘Ho, Mr. Banford, we have no work here 
that you can do. Don’t allow this obligation to 
worry you. I paid your fine because I really 
wanted to help you.” At this remark he looked 
up for an instant and then dropped his eyes again. 
Miss Eishnell continued : “You may not know it, 
Mr. Banford, but I have been praying for you ever 
since I saw you pass here drunk one night. I am 
going to keep on praying for you till you become 
a Christian in heart and life.” His chin began to 
quiver as the tears filled his eyes ; and Miss Eish- 
nell asked that they might have a prayer together. 
Without waiting, she knelt and so did Mr. Booker. 


Reality Winning the Worst 71 

Banford sat up for a moment till Miss Rishnell had 
begun praying, then he also quietly knelt. Miss 
Rishnell prayed : “ Oh, God, we thank Thee that 
nothing is hid from Thee. Thou knowest both the 
good and the bad in our lives. We are all un- 
worthy of Thy love. Forgive the past, and have 
mercy on us now. Thou knowest our desire to do 
better. By Thy help we will. We pray Thee, oh, 
Father, to bless Brother Banford, who is in trouble. 
May he learn that the way of the transgressor is 
hard. May he know that Thou dost love him as 
Thy child and may he come to love Thee as his 
Father. Help him to give up all sin and live to be 
pure and kind and prayerful. Then we know he 
will be happy and Thou wilt smile upon his life 
and make him a blessing. Hear us and answer 
our prayer, oh. Father, for his sake and for the sake 
of Jesus Christ, our Saviour, who loves us and gave 
Himself for us. Amen.” 

When they arose from the prayer Banford was 
weeping. He started to wipe the tears from his 
face with his sleeve ; for he had no handkerchief. 
Seeing this. Miss Rishnell in an instant said : Here, 
Mr. Banford,” and picking up from the table a 
fresh handkerchief gave it to him, “take this.” 
He hesitated. “Yes, I want you to take this 
handkerchief, wipe the tears from your eyes and 
then put it in your pocket. It may help you to 
remember that we are praying for you.” He took 
the handkerchief, seeming to be almost convulsed 
with emotion. Without even trying to wipe the 


72 The Mastery of Love 

tears from his eyes, he hastened out of the room and 
down the steps. 

Banford was not seen about the settlement for 
several days. Some one reported in the reading- 
room that he had gone to work in a mattress factory. 
Early one evening, before the reading-room was 
opened, Banford appeared at the door. He asked 
to see Miss KishneU privately. He was taken to 
the library, where Miss KishneU was reading. As 
soon as he was seated he drew from his pocket a 
large knife, a pistol and a box of cartridges. He 
got up and laid these on the table and said : “ Miss 
KishneU, I want you to keep these for me. I am 
afraid to keep them. It is hard for me to keep 
from gittin’ mad and I am afraid to have these.” 
He also stated that he threw his bottle of whiskey 
away and never expected to drink any more. He 
then explained that he was working at the mattress 
factory for five doUars a week. He had to pay two 
dollars and a half a week board but promised to 
bring two doUars every Saturday evening towards 
paying Miss KishneU. Before he left she asked him 
to promise to come to the reading-room every even- 
ing. He hesitated, but when she insisted he made 
the promise. 

Several weeks had passed and Banford had kept 
his promise absolutely. Every night he was at the 
reading-room and every Saturday evening he paid 
in his two doUars. 

The man, however, seemed to be embarrassed all 
the time. She suspected it was because of his very 


Reality Winning the Worst 73 

scant and soiled clothing. So she decided to make 
another investment. There was to be a convention 
in Richmond, Ya., which she was to attend as a 
delegate. Before leaving she sent seventeen dollars 
to Banf ord with this note : 

“ Me. Banfokd : 

“ Here is a loan of seventeen dollars. I am 
leaving for Richmond. Will return a week from 
next Saturday. Will expect to see you in my 
Sunday-school class, clothed and in your right 
mind.” 

Sure enough, when she entered the Sunday-school 
room, after her return, there sat Banford, with his 
appearance transformed as if by magic. He was 
clothed anew from head to foot. When he made 
the purchase he evidently thought of Miss Rishnell’s 
appearance when he visited the settlement the 
second time. For he had on a black suit and shoes, 
with a perfectly white shirt and tie. He looked as 
neat and prim as a Chesterfield. From this time on 
Banford was the most faithful member of the class. 
The Sunday-school at first was ahnost stampeded by 
his presence. But it was soon discovered that he 
was perfectly harmless. All went well with Ban- 
ford for several months. It was April when he first 
came to the Sunday-school. He had been a regular 
attendant at the reading-room and Sunday-school 
till early in August. He failed to come to the 
reading-room, and then, on Sunday morning he was 
not in his class. Careful inquiry was made to 


74 The Mastery of Love 

locate him, but no trace could be found. A week 
passed, but no one had heard of him. One Tues- 
day night about nine o’clock Banford appeared at 
the side door of the settlement and called for Miss 
Kishnell who was in the reading-room. She said to 
him: “Well, Mr. Banford, have you been sick?” 
“ Oh, no, Miss Kishnell, I got in bad again. I’ve been 
drunk. There ain’t no use tryin’. I can’t be good. 
I just stopped to tell you good-bye.” He started to 
reach out his hand, when Miss Kishnell asked where 
he was going. “Oh, I’m goin’ to the river. I 
can’t stand it, I’m not fit to live, I’m goin’ to the 
river. ” Miss Kishnell knew that he meant suicide, so 
she grasped his hand and said : “ Ho, Mr. Banford, 
you can’t, you shall never walk over my prayers 
into hell. Come in. You go up-stairs to the 
library. I will be there in a little while.” 

Miss Kishnell went back to the reading-room and 
asking to be excused for a while, took Miss Palmer 
and went up to talk with Banford. She asked him 
to tell her all about his trouble. He told of his 
going to the saloon with two men who persuaded 
him to go with them. He said the old thirst and 
old feelings took possession of him. He got to 
drinking and then went on till he was “ dead 
drunk.” Since then he had been ashamed to re- 
turn. He said he started to the river twice, but 
felt that he ought not to go till he had come to the 
settlemeut to say good-bye and thank Miss Kishnell 
for her kindness. 

Miss Kishnell then explained that killing himself 


75 


Reality Winning the Worst 

would do no good, that he could not get away from 
his conscience by death, that he would be just as 
much in the presence of God after death as before. 
So she asked that they pray for God’s pardon. He 
dropped on his knees with a sigh. After the 
prayer his burden was gone and Miss Rishnell 
talked further about the importance of keeping 
away from the saloons and evil companions. She 
then went to an alcove in her library and got a lit- 
tle Testament. She turned to Romans xiv. 4, and 
marked these words : “ He shall be holden up ; for 
God is able to make him stand.” Then she asked 
him to stand on that promise. She gave him the 
little Testament which she asked him to read regu- 
larly each day. He reached in his inner pocket 
and took out the neatly folded white handkerchief 
which Miss Rishnell had given him as a reminder 
of her prayers and laid it in the Testament for a 
book mark, saying as he did so : “ That handker- 
chief has made me fight the devil mighty hard. 
Lots of times I started to the saloon and then I 
would take out that handkerchief and think of your 
prayers and I would turn back.” After promising 
that he would never again enter a saloon he left the 
settlement, saying as he started down the steps : 
“ Good-night, Miss Rishnell ; I’ll pay you that money 
back as soon as I can.” 



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IV 

The Homes of the Poor 



THE HOMES OF THE POOE 

S ickness is the greatest mountain of diffi- 
culty that most poor people have to ascend. 
It stands in the way of all material ad- 
vancement. For when a man is straining every 
nerve and every muscle to put away a small sum 
“ for a rainy day ” the delicate, overwrought ma- 
chinery gives way and he drops back both into 
poverty and despair. It bars the way to most so- 
cial pleasures ; for often when a boy or a girl “ is 
doing over time for some extra,” for a vacation or 
for some long coveted possession, the health fails 
under the strain and exposure, and all is lost — 
health, pleasure, and often virtue. It crushes the 
hopes of the burdened housewife and mother. Just 
when she “ feels a little hope up,” and thinks things 
are better, and rest will come and relief to her 
worn, wearied body, some one soon becomes sick 
and all hopes vanish. 

It is this awful fear and dread of the inevitable 
“ sick speU ” that makes the poor easy victims of 
unscrupulous patent medicine men and life insur- 
ance companies. An arrangement of this kind is 
often effected. An entire family will be insured at 
$100 each. Children under ten pay five cents a 
week ; from ten to fifteen, ten cents a week ; from 
79 


8o The Mastery of Love 

fifteen to twenty-five, fifteen cents a week ; from 
twenty-five to thirty-five, twenty-five cents a week. 
Thus far, good. But the agent upon insuring 
each person, leaves a little credit book in which 
payments are recorded, and also a blank form 
properly filled in to the effect that when the insured 
dies a certain undertaker will give a fine burial at 
the cost of one hundred dollars, the amount for 
which the certificate is issued. I have known cases 
where the entire cost of the funeral could not pos- 
sibly have exceeded fifty dollars. This statement 
is based upon the following itemized account, the 
maximum cost of a number of funerals I have di- 
rected. Coffin, $25 ; shroud, $10 ; hearse, $8 ; two 
carriages, $5 ; total, $48. Yet the family receives 
nothing. The agent and the undertaker pocket the 
surplus. 

If people amid comfortable and luxurious sur- 
roundings really knew how the sick suffer in the 
wretched, meagre, degrading, uncomfortable 
homes of the average poor working family, they 
would act quite differently towards them. 

Miss Kishnell writes this interesting account of a 
family : 

‘‘ The Parnell family, consisting of father, mother 
and three small children, came, as many families 
do, from a small country village nearly thirty miles 
away. They came expecting to find easy work and 
high wages in the city. Stimulated by this hope, 
they were willing to suffer the privations and fa- 
tigue of that long journey on foot, — for they walked 


The Homes of the Poor 8i 

the entire distance — the mother bravely pushing an 
old baby buggy, with baby and the family’s entire 
wardrobe, the father carrying the bedclothing and 
a few cooking utensils, and the oldest child, a boy 
of nine, proudly bearing the burden of a highly 
colored, quaint old picture, and a small clock. That 
was all they possessed of this world’s goods. But 
as it was early spring, the man succeeded in getting 
work immediately at the sawmill, and little by lit- 
tle from the meagre earnings the one-room house 
was furnished with all that was considered neces- 
sary to the comfort of the family. They were sat- 
isfied with very little, — a small stove, two chairs, 
a tiny table, a box-cupboard, an old bedstead with 
a straw tick, stuffed so full that it seemed the un- 
wary sleepers would roll off, and a spring cot with 
one end held up by a box. All articles were second 
hand, or more likely tenth hand. 

“ Mrs. Parnell fortunately brought with her the 
thrifty, cleanly, industrious habits of country life. 
Old cast-off garments of others were soon trans- 
formed into clothes for the children, and with scraps 
from the settlement home, and with many others 
that she picked up from the city dump pile and 
washed, she had soon furnished the beds with quilts. 
While pieces of bone and leather, also gathered 
from the dump by the boy and sold, soon added 
some cheap decorative articles to the small room. 
Everything went well with them till the last of 
August when the mother became ill with t3rphoid 
fever. Two weeks later the five-year-old girl was 


82 The Mastery of Love 

stricken with the same disease, and a few days later 
the boy. Such a pitiable spectacle as they did pre- 
sent ! The mother and little girl were on the hard 
high bed and Leon on the broken cot, all too sick 
to help themselves or each other ! It was out of 
the question for the father to quit work. So for 
days they had no nursing except an occasional visit 
from the settlement or from the neighbors. Then 
the mother and little girl were removed to the hos- 
pital, and Leon and the baby were cared for by a 
neighbor. 

“ In a little over a week, the baby ‘ took the fever 
and the father took to chillinV and the poor mother, 
in her weakened condition, came home ‘to keep 
things from goin’ clean to pieces.’ Work having 
ceased, money ceased, and provisions became so 
scarce that often they had nothing in the house to 
eat. Even the water supply was cut off, for they 
were living in a house that had neither hydrant, 
cistern, nor well, and had been buying water at 
two cents a gallon from a neighbor. It seems too 
awful to be true, but one morning, when I went 
down early, I missed the little boy from his cot ; 
and, asking where he was, got the shocking infor- 
mation from his mother that he was getting water 
from a broken hydrant down the street. I went to 
see and found that the child had dug a hole in the 
street large enough to receive a small tin can, and as 
the water seeped up from a broken water pipe he 
patiently and laboriously filled his little bucket. 
This he had been doing for several days, and as he 


The Homes of the Poor 83 

was so weak from his fevered, impoverished condi- 
tion, he would lie down on the ground to rest between 
dips. When I remonstrated with the mother as to 
the danger of using such water, she burst into tears 
and said, ‘ We have no water, can buy no water, 
and you bring us so many things already.’ 

“ Another shadow on the already dark picture of 
misery and suffering may be seen from another lit- 
tle experience a few days later. The baby was 
very sick. The stupefied mother sat in a sort of 
dumb agony all day with the little one in her tired 
arms. One morning I took their old baby buggy 
to the settlement, gave it a good scrubbing, then 
from the linen closet supplied it with a clean, folded 
comforter, a dainty sheet, a little pillow with a 
white ruffled slip, some mosquito netting, and sent 
it back. I followed shortly to see what would be 
the effect. When I walked in, I felt sure the baby 
was dead. It was lying in the buggy, several 
neighbors were standing around with arms akimbo 
and a bewildered look on their faces, and Mrs. 
Parnell was on her knees, with one arm under the 
buggy and the other over it, sobbing bitterly. To 
my question as to what was the matter, she sobbed, 
‘ I can’t stand it ! She don’t look like dogs now, 
but like angels in white ! I ’member when things 
looked that way back to home.’ My heart nearly 
broke at the scene. My eyes seemed to melt into 
tears. I turned and walked quickly away to re- 
cover control of my emotions. I realized as never 
before how deep is the yearning of poor mothers to 


84 The Mastery of Love 

smooth the rough, hard beds of their beloved sick, 
and yet how helpless they are in their poverty to 
do anything for them. 

“ As more than a month had passed without any 
wages coming in, the rent was overdue and the 
agent descended upon the hapless family one Sat- 
urday evening with an officer of the law. A war- 
rant had been served several days previous, so their 
small belongings, sick children and all were moved 
out into the street. I telephoned Mr. McGregor 
who explained that the agent was acting within the 
limits of the law and so he could give no aid. The 
only vacant room in the immediate community was 
one that had part of the roof burned off, but into 
that, with the neighbors’ help, the Parnells were soon 
moved. Our hope was simply to protect them till 
better quarters could be found the next week. 

“ The next day, Sunday, it began raining, and for 
several days there was almost a steady downpour, 
so much so that it was impossible to move them, 
and even more impossible to keep the bed dry on 
which lay the sick father and boy. In the effort to 
tidy up the room and give them their breakfast, I 
had to wade the floor with skirts pinned up. Yery 
soon they were moved, for Mr. McGregor had vol- 
unteered to pay the rent for two months in ad- 
vance. An effort was now made to replace them 
on their feet, but help came too late. The health 
of both parents was completely wrecked by the 
awful exposure, anxiety and suffering. The father 
became an imbecile, the mother a hopeless invalid. 


The Homes of the Poor 85 

the children beggars and paupers, and now the 
whole family are cared for at the county’s ex- 
pense. 

“The owner of the house was responsible for 
much of the suffering of this family. The heartless 
cruelty with which the family was turned out into 
the street led me to inquire into the question of 
ownership. I was expecting to find that the owner 
was a hardened man of the world — ^probably a 
saloon-keeper, whose only purpose was to make 
money. Imagine my chagrin when I was told that 
the owner of the house was a rich deacon in the 
Baptist church and that he instructed his agent to 
put the family out. I know the man, have heard 
him speak in the church. He is a leader in his 
church, and belongs to the ‘ upper ten ’ in business. 
Is it possible that the man’s heart is as cruel as his 
deed ? Hot at all. He knew nothing of the fam- 
ily except that they had not paid their rent. Of 
course, it was not his place to make inquiry. ‘ Busi- 
ness is business ; they haven’t paid their rent, put 
them out.’ And that is the heartless basis on 
which much of modern business is conducted. It is 
a cruel, heathenish business, whoever is guilty of 
such unchristian treatment. Thus, this family per- 
ished, not in heathen China, nor in pagan Africa, 
but in Christian America, in one of the richest and 
most cultured cities of the world, where the real 
Christianity of love and service and sacrifice has 
shrivelled down into the mere songs and prayers 
of these modern disciples who are more concerned 


86 The Mastery of Love 

for their extravagant churches than for living peo- 
ple.” 

Miss Eishnell has written the following very in- 
teresting account of several other families that she 
knew intimately : 

“ The most interesting study in psychology that 
ever came under my observation was that of the 
Moses family. The whole make-up of the family 
was so unique that my interest was riveted from 
my first visit. Mrs. Moses herself was my special 
object of study. She was a little wiry, hard-work- 
ing woman, with high-pitched voice, and a quick 
penetrating eye. Her features seemed to indicate 
that she had sprung from better stock than the 
average poor slum dweller ; but her long struggle 
against poverty, and her efforts to make ends meet 
with her scrimpy resources had left hard and bitter 
lines across her face. She was a wonderfully re- 
sourceful woman, never lacking a solution for the 
most difficult domestic problem. One day Mr. 
Moses was brought home with a fractured ankle, 
and when we asked for a deep vessel with very 
warm water to bathe the injured foot in, we were 
greatly surprised to see Mrs. Moses walk in with 
the big iron family dinner pot, and to hear her 
say in response to our inquiring looks, ‘ Mose, this 
is just the very thing 1 The iron will hold the heat 
longer. I just turned the dinner out into a 
bucket.’ 

“ Her resourcefulness was further demonstrated 
by her ability to store away an incredible amount 


The Homes of the Poor 87 

of coal, wood, hay and other stuff under the three 
beds of her two-room house. Her method of con- 
trolling her boys, by threatening them with some 
new punishment for each misdemeanor, was a 
never ending source of astonishment to me. In 
the course of one visit, I have heard her threaten 
little six-year-old Sampson with such imprecations 
as ‘ I low to kill yer,’ ‘ I’ll break yer bones,’ ‘ I’ll 
bust yer head,’ ‘ I’ll whup ye to an inch of yer 
life.’ 

“ The managing of those five boys was indeed 
a herculean task. They were as unlike as five 
boys could well be. Frank, the oldest boy of 
eighteen, was disobedient and disrespectful to his 
parents ; so iU natured that he was always fight- 
ing, and often under arrest ; he was spiteful in the 
extreme, destructive in every way, and seemed to 
have no moral sense. Tom, the second boy, was 
dull, almost idiotic, so coarse in appearance and 
actions as to seem almost a brute. Dave had a 
sad, soulful expression, deep-set yearning eyes, a 
disposition to shrink from all companions and be 
alone, and seemed to find no joy in play. Sampson 
was a happy, rollicking, mischievous scamp who 
took nothing seriously except every opportunity 
to drink beer or swear. Will, only four, has al- 
ways been out of sorts with the whole world, kick- 
ing, crying and fussing ; a violent antagonist to all 
authority and order. 

“ One day, when our friendship had progressed 
far enough, I asked Mrs. Moses to tell me how it 


88 The Mastery of Love 

happened that her boys were so entirely different 
from one another. Her reply was well worth 
recording. ‘ It seems funny, and per’aps ye won’t 
think it, bein’s as yu’s single, but them kids act 
just like I felt before they wus born. I didn’t 
want Frank. Moses and me wus just married 
and I wanted to work with him at the mill. I 
felt so mean towards everybody, and sometimes 
I nearly done somethin’ to him before he come. 
Then, before Frank could walk, I found out that 
another kid wus purty soon to come and I just 
cried and shut myself up at home and wanted to 
die. Then before Dave wus born (he’s named for 
the man in the Bible who got sorry for his sins), 
I wanted to git religion and be good and sing 
songs and learn to pray. But Mose, he laughed at 
me and I felt awful cast down. . . . But law ! 

I got over them feelin’s ’cause it seemed there wus 
nothin’ cornin’ to me but children and hard work, 
so I set my heart on to havin’ a good time, and 
gittin’ friendly with folks, and lettin’ the house go 
and takin’ things easy. That’s Samp now, just fer 
sure! And Will’s no count no more’n me. I’m 
tired of boys. If another kid comes my way, I 
hope to the Lord it’ll be a gal, jest fer a change. 
Would you believe it ! I’ve saved every sack that 
ever flour came to this house in to make my babies 
dresses and skirts. I told Mose Sunday that he 
ner me had never had new clothes since that first 
kid turned up. All we git is second hand, ’ceptin’ 
when it’s third hand. And I’m tired.’ 


The Homes of the Poor 89 

“ As she sat there talking freely and unburden- 
ing her tired heart, I suggested that we pray and 
carry all the burden to the great Burden Bearer. 
But her prompt reply was : ‘ Pray in this house ? 
Kot much. You couldn’t hear your own years 
with these pesky kids around.’ I insisted that she 
needed God to live with her and help her. But in 
apology she said ; ‘ Seems wrong to ask the good 
Lord to come down to such a dirty house. He 
couldn’t live here — ’tain’t room for Him and us.’ 

“ Those boys were a great trial, no doubt. But 
there seemed to be the promise of something good 
in Samp, and one day I told Mrs. Moses so. She 
was greatly pleased, and addressing him said, 
‘ Come here. Samp ! Miss Kishnell wants you.’ 
Whereupon she was corrected by Samp, with 
‘That ain’t so, Mit Kitnell don’t want me, you 
flool you.’ ‘ Sampson, Sampson,’ I remonstrated, 
‘ come here and don’t talk that way. You are 
too nice a boy to do that. What are you going to 
do when you get to be a man ? ’ The prompt 
answer was, ‘ I’ll loaf, like Buddie Sank.’ 

“ As I sat there studying him, wondering all the 
while how such a small neck could support such a 
large, well formed head, I noticed that he possessed 
a quick, discriminating mind, an observant eye, and 
restless, nimble hands eager for something to do. 
He promised to come to kindergarten next morn- 
ing, and when he walked in, Dave, three years 
older, sagely remarked, ‘Here’s Samp, and you’ll 
have a hard time breakin’ him in.’ But the surmise 


go The Mastery of Love 

was wrong, for Sampson’s character responded to 
love and tender discipline like a plant late removed 
from a dark, foul cellar unfolds to the rain and the 
warmth of the sun. It took a great deal of patience, 
however, to break him of his propensity for swearing. 

“ In a few weeks Sampson had not only become a 
regular and interested attendant of the kinder- 
garten, but had also been brought into the Sunday- 
school. The first Sunday he came by to go with us. 
He came more than an hour before time, and as our 
pastor was our guest, it was quite hard for Samp to 
maintain proper dignity. It was the first time he 
had been in our sitting-room, and I noticed that, 
though his big eyes were studying everything in 
the room, they rested often and most admiringly on 
a bright, soft Brussels rug. Ho sooner had the 
pastor made his exit than Sampson jumped up, and 
like an animal that is ready to spring upon its 
coveted prey, said with suppressed emotion and 
tightening muscles, ‘ Say, Mit Kitnell, kin I turn 
oversets on that thing ? ’ Before my answer could 
be given, he had landed on his head in the middle 
of the rug. 

“ Poor child of the slums ! If there were but a bit 
of red carpet in every home, there would be many a 
red letter day in some of the clouded little lives. 
I had previously noticed that the presence of a 
bright rug in front of an invalid’s bed would make 
the footsteps lighter, the voice gentler, and the 
general bearing of the many occupants of the room 
more dignified and graceful. 


The Homes of the Poor 


91 

“ So I decided to test its effect in this home. 
Dave, the sad-faced, soul-hungry boy was sick when 
the strip of well-worn, but clean and bright carpet 
made its advent into the home. Frank even helped 
scour the room, and drive nails behind the door for 
the scant wardrobe of the family. Mrs. Moses and 
I improvised a dresser out of a large box, and Tom 
got up enough energy to wash his face and hands 
clean and comb his hair ; while little Samp was per- 
fectly radiant, and poor Dave smiled for the first 
time. The whole atmosphere of the home was so 
changed that, when I went back in the evening 
‘ to see how s’prised Mose would be ’ Mrs. Moses 
said in a tone so different from the one of months 
before, ‘ Let’s sing “ Old Time Keligion ” and say a 
little prayer.’ There were better days ahead for 
that family. 

“ That a child’s play is the first step in its character 
development and its education goes without saying. 
This fact is nowhere so manifest as among the 
children of the poor. When little girls play at 
house, the would-be parents quarrel and fight, beat 
the children, get arrested and separate. The boys 
play at work and cheat, lie, defraud each other, 
drink, gamble and land in a threatening mock 
prison. 

“As this daily moulding process goes on, it be- 
comes but the epitome of a future life. I was much 
distressed therefore when the boys of our night 
school, during the summer months, got up what 
they termed ‘ a little show.’ The announcement 


92 The Mastery of Love 

on the almost unreadable bills that the admission 
fee was to be either ‘ a bran sack, tater whiskey 
bottle, or large bone,’ aroused my curiosity, and 
made me determine to go. The performance was 
given in an old barn which had been provided with 
rough, dirty board seats, ill-smelling kerosene lamps, 
and a jar with filthy ice-water, all for the comfort 
of the audience. The stage was the manger with a 
few boards nailed over it. The audience surprised 
me by its size and composition. All the children 
of the neighborhood, boys and girls, were sitting 
together indiscriminately, with many parents 
present. And the play ! It was made up of the 
most blood-curdling scenes taken from the dime 
novel. Hideous murders were enacted, bold rob- 
beries perpetrated, and lewd love scenes were pre- 
sented to the fascinated audience. I sat dumb- 
founded, my heart aching with a deep grief. What 
could be done for those whose ideals of life were so 
low and so early formed ? My nerves tingled with 
a cold chill as I thought of the effect, ‘ those little 
shows,’ kept up for several weeks, would have upon 
the moral life of the community. When I appealed 
to the parents to stop them, the answer was, ‘ It is 
only play, and they act so natural and cute.’ 

“ But while such maturity of thought and ideal 
is so strikingly manifested in the young, childish- 
ness seems to characterize these people all their 
lives. The majority of the poor never get beyond 
their first childhood. Sometimes the impotency is 
pathetic in the extreme, as when you find an aged 


The Homes of the Poor 


93 

woman in girlish ecstasy over the gift of a paper 
napkin for her mantel, or an old man in tears over 
the loss of a little tin box you gave him to keep his 
‘ backer ’ in. 

“There are also manifestations of a sort of 
savage impotency that are not only crude but re- 
pulsive and pernicious. In the light of such prac- 
tices by Anglo-Saxon people in a Christian country, 
the savagery of the ancient medicine man and the 
sorcery of the Hottentot and barbarian sink into in- 
significance. 

“ The thing I have reference to is the common 
habit of dosing helpless sick children with vile 
things ; as rancid butter to new-born babies for a 
purgative ; pot liquor for hives ; tea made of cedar 
berries and sorghum for whooping-cough. For 
teething children nothing is said to be better than 
to steal an egg from a neighbor, write the baby’s 
name on it, put it in a muslin bag and hang it be- 
hind the headboard of the mother’s bed. Another 
unfailing remedy to save babies from the suffering 
of teething is to procure a rabbit’s head and bake it 
till it is charred sufficiently to be ground to a 
powder. ‘ Give in broken doses.’ For thrash the 
most noxious of all remedies is often used, namely : 
urine as a wash for the mouth. This is often used 
also for the earache. For chills, corn-stalks boiled 
in rain water ; for mumps, the marrow of a hog’s 
jawbone applied as a poultice ; for rickets, bow legs, 
and other ailments of that sort, bathing in greasy 
dish water. One day our cook, a white mother of 


94 The Mastery of Love 

more than average intelligence, in putting away 
some nutmegs rolled them about in her hand and 
remarked — ‘Well, sir ! them’s male, these megs are. 
Did you know if you take one of these, of like sex 
to the child, and burn a hole through it with a 
knitting needle and string it on a cord around the 
child’s neck, it will never have any trouble with its 
teeth ? That sure is so ! For I raised four chil- 
dren by that rule.’ 

“ A patron of the free dispensary was heard to re- 
mark one day that our remedies were good if one 
didn’t know better things to use, and to prove the 
point she said the best thing in the world for 
malaria was white-oak bark if it was ‘ stripped up 
in taking it off the tree.’ One person whom she 
knew had made the fatal mistake of using bark 
that had been ‘ stripped down, and taken an awful 
diarrhoea and died.’ 

“ I have, on more than one occasion, known of a 
devoted young mother sending her new-born babe 
through cold, rain, or other exposure to some 
neighboring family where there was a seventh 
child of like sex, the object being to have the 
magic seventh child blow seven times into the 
mouth of the young baby, in order, as the credu- 
lous parents believe, to prevent its having diseases 
of the respiratory organs. 

“ In addition to these and other vile chimney- 
corner prescriptions that are the heritage of the un- 
educated, the poor are the ones who suffer most 
from the quack doctor and the patent medicine 


The Homes of the Poor 


95 


man. Their glaring handbills promise relief from 
every ailment, and the mentally impotent folk are 
the ones that fall an easy prey to their insidious 
arguments. For two weeks there was encamped on 
a vacant lot near us ‘ The Great Kickapoo Indian 
Medicine Company.’ Every night they allured 
hundreds of people by their crude vaudeville per- 
formances and an untrained orchestra. Between 
acts, the manager would present the medicine : 
‘ Sagwa, the great nerve tonic, only one dollar a bot- 
tle ; Secret Salve, only fifty cents a box ; Indian Oil, 
twenty-five cents a bottle.’ He praised his remedies 
in the most glowing terms, and assured the people 
that his only object in being there was ‘ to help them 
— to afford them wholesome pleasure free, and give 
them the unparallelled opportunity of buying dirt 
cheap the greatest remedy ever known on earth.’ 
At the end of two weeks he announced the sale of 
something over 1,000 bottles of the Sagwa, to say 
nothing of the fifty and twenty-five cent bottles. 
At least $1,500 was taken from scarcely four 
thousand people who really have never a cent to 
spare ! 

“ There was one family in our community, not an 
immoral or criminal one, but simply ignorant, 
where mental impotency was shocking. One day 
as I went do^vn to see them, I carried the evening 
paper for Mr. Price to read. As I laid it down, I 
said : ‘ There’s the paper ; I’ve just been reading of 
Pope Leo’s death.’ Mrs. Price jumped like she 
had been shot and said, ‘ My Lord ! Who’s that ! 


96 The Mastery of Love 

Did he have anything ketchin’ ? ’Cause we take 
everything that conies nigh.’ 

“ Mr. Price broke all records however on Christ- 
mas day. The keeper of the corner saloon told 
him he could have all the beer he could carry home 
in his old boot. Mr. Price went home, took off 
his boot, brushed it out with an old shoe brush, and 
returned to the saloon to have it filled. Twice, 
thrice, the fourth and fifth time this was repeated, 
till the family was satisfied, and, as Mrs. Price ex- 
pressed it, ‘ Jolly drunk on free beer.’ 

“ In most cases sickness and misfortune are due to 
causes over which the family have no control — un- 
sanitary surroundings, and belated, inadequate as- 
sistance. In the following story, the whole trouble 
was due to dense ignorance and uncleanliness 
manifested by a practice that is truly repulsive and 
pernicious. The discovery of this habit threw a 
flood of light on the spread of certain diseases, and 
some other things that hitherto I had been unable 
to account for. 

“ Hattie Gray, having finished her apron in the 
sewing school, wanted to take it home, but said 
she did not have the required nickel. I was some- 
what exasperated with her excuse, and called her at- 
tention to the fact that she seemed to be chewing a 
nickel’s worth of gum. ‘ Oh, well,’ said she, ‘ this 
is borrowed.’ ‘ What ! Borrowed ! ’ I exclaimed. 
‘ Yes,’ she went on in the most matter-of-fact sort of 
way ; ‘ you know Mrs. Grubb, our neighbor, she 
buys gum one week, and her children and ourn take 


The Homes of the Poor 97 

turns. The next week ma buys and we swap back 
agin.’ Further inquiries into this case revealed the 
startling fact that it was not only a common prac- 
tice between these two families, but that many 
other families all over the district enjoyed the same 
unenviable privileges. 

“ Only a few weeks later I was visiting a Mrs. 
Kidd who had a very large and most untidy family. 
Three girls were then recovering from scarlet fever, 
and another child ‘ had just taken down so sudden 
like’ that it surprised the mother. While I was 
there, in rushed Kit, one of the convalescents, with 
the wail, — ‘ Ma-mer — make Fred Dutton give up my 
chewin’-gum. I just loaned it to her fer a little 
while, and now she won’t give it back.’ Freddie 
Dutton lived at least a block away, and, in passing 
the door, had borrowed the gum to chew on her 
way to the store and back ! Yet the attending phy- 
sician, the sanitary oificer and I had been fighting 
for weeks with a strict quarantine to prevent a fur- 
ther spread of the scarlet fever. 

“ Thus it is that havoc is wrought in spite of the 
best efforts, and the sad part about it is the fact that 
innocent children everywhere are the victims. 
This same convalescent Kit, in addition to spread- 
ing the infection over the district — went out to beg 
in one of the best resident districts of the city — 
went out wearing the garments she had worn and 
slept in, and others that had hung on the wall of 
that pestilential room while the fever raged. This 
the mother told me in trying to convince me that 


98 The Mastery of Love 

there was not one bit of danger in letting Fred 
chew Kit’s gum. As I thought of it, I could see 
the skeleton hand of death clutching for the little 
throats in the beautiful homes where Kit had asked 
for alms. 

“ The disease which may well be called the 
‘ white plague ’ of the poor is tuberculosis in its 
various forms. Bone tuberculosis prevails among 
the children; intestinal tuberculosis among the 
men especially, and pulmonary tuberculosis among 
all. In less than three years’ time there were four 
deaths from this disease in one house, and two other 
cases developed. In one week’s time seven cases 
were reported to me from one block. Although its 
ravages are so appalling, there is absolutely no ef- 
fort on the part of the patient or the family to pre- 
vent a further spread of the disease. Often a whole 
family is wiped out by it. It is among these 
that one finds heroic suffering. I have known 
where there have been weeks upon weeks of rest- 
less days and sleepless nights ; with an intense un- 
remitting heat ; continuous noises of singing and 
dancing, of quarrelling and cursing ; with vile odors 
on all sides, the cooking often being done in the pa- 
tient’s room ; with no air for the congested lungs ex- 
cept some that had been thrice breathed ; with births 
and deaths in the same room ; with no palatable 
food, and no ice- water, no medicine, no nursing, no 
sympathy, and no love ! And yet the life has gone 
out without one complaint or one murmur. Only a 
sigh, a sigh that was only half articulate, for — 


The Homes of the Poor 99 

what God intended every man to have plenty of — 
light and fresh air. 

“ The reference made to Kit’s wearing clothes she 
had slept in may surprise one somewhat, but this 
is the rule among the poor. One heavy union suit 
of underwear is all that is provided for a child. 
This he puts on when it gets cold, and keeps on 
usually ‘ till the weather breaks,’ a period of about 
three months, by which time it is worn out and dis- 
carded, the child then going without. Another 
regular habit in dressing is to have children wear 
dresses, aprons, waists, shirts, etc., right side out 
till they are perfectly vile and then turn them 
wrong side out, when they will do service for 
another period of time. These are some of the 
causes that make sickness so prevalent and so fatal 
among the poor. 

“ It is, however, among the sick that one finds 
instances of self-sacrifice and hospitality and neigh- 
borliness that put to shame the deeds and gifts of 
wealthy people. I remember once having been 
called to make a race for life for a little boy that 
was really dying with pneumonia. The doctor or- 
dered us to keep the entire chest covered with a 
bran poultice of a certain temperature, changing it 
every twenty minutes for a period of not less than 
two and one-half hours. I told the mother that she 
would have to keep the fire and bring the poultices 
hot to the bedside, that I would temper them and 
do the rest. What was my surprise when she said, 
‘ I hain’t one bit of wood ner coal.’ Mrs. Cork 


lOO 


The Mastery of Love 

(the heroic soul referred to in another chapter) came 
to our rescue by simply saying, ‘ I’ll give you the 
wood.’ And what do you suppose she did ? Her 
wood, simply a pile of logs caught from the river, 
was unsawed and uncut. She took a saw and axe, 
and though she had been washing all day, went out 
into the frosty night and sawed and split enough 
wood for her neighbor’s need. 

‘‘ Another instance of such kindness comes to my 
mind. I was sick with an attack of ‘ grippe.’ My 
next-door neighbors were two elderly maiden ladies 
who had a very hard time keeping body and soul 
together. I knew it to be a fact that they often 
went to bed without one bite to eat for supper, and 
no prospect for any breakfast. They were sweet, 
pure women, just simply very poor. They made 
quilts for a Living, and sometimes got along very 
well. This was a slack season, but they managed 
to get along somehow. They had three hens, one 
of which was laying at this time. And, in spite of 
all my protests, they brought me the one fresh egg 
every morning. Christianity ? That is the real 
article. 

“ There was more genuine Christianity in the 
loving gift of that egg every morning than there 
is in a dozen ordinary prayer-meetings. The only 
trouble with much of our modern charity is that it 
is unchristian. The Good Samaritan is the ideal 
charity worker. Only love can dispense charity. 
Much of this loud talk and florid oratory by charity 
workers is the merest folderol. It is worse. You 


The Homes of the Poor 


101 


hear much of ‘ scientific principles and methods of 
charity,’ and more of ‘ modern methods of charity.’ 
And a lot of women talk cleverly about ‘ investigat- 
ing the poor and preventing fraud.’ If you do 
your own thinking, you will wonder if ever these 
glib speakers with their ‘ scientific methods ’ and 
gloved hands and stony hearts ever heard of Jesus. 
The one word of charity work is love, love, love. 
The science of charity is the art of friendship. These 
modern charity organizations are everlastingly in- 
vestigating people. But people do not want to be 
investigated. They want to be loved. Modern 
charity is spending itself giving things — food, coal, 
clothes and money. These are incidental to real 
charity. Much of such gifts are utterly harmful 
and degrading. They are never helpful except 
when these ‘ things ’ are made the vehicles of con- 
veying a message of love and hope and confidence 
and friendship. 

“ I know the heart of the poor. And I can speak 
for them. We do not want ‘ things ’ given to us, 
we simply want a chance. Don’t knock us down 
with your automobiles and then give us crutches. 
Don’t block the road till we are half starved and 
frozen and then toss to us the scraps of your lunch 
and your cast-off clothes. Just keep your machine 
from running over us and keep the road open and 
let us have an equal right of way. Then we will 
need no crutches, nor old rags, nor scraps from your 
hands, but will walk with head erect and ask favor 
of no one but God. If you rich men want to walk 


102 


The Mastery of Love 

the highway of brotherhood with us and share our 
burdens and sorrows and joys, then we will love 
you and praise God for your fellowship. But if you 
are afraid of our company, and shun our children 
and spend your days in frigid seclusion in fine 
houses and in more costly churches and club rooms 
and send your left-over ‘ things ’ down to the slums 
for us, then I pledge you that until God changes 
the mettle of human nature, we will despise your 
charity, we will not believe in your Christianity, we 
will shun your churches, and we will hate you ; and 
yet, and yet we will try to keep the candle of re- 
ligion burning in our cottage homes, and sing our 
songs in joy and sadness and pray to the Christ of 
the poor, believing that He still some day will be 
Lord of all.” 


V 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 


Y 

McGEEGOE’S CEITICISM OF THE CHXJECH 


B ANFOKD became one of the most honest 
men I ever knew. While he was working 
in the mattress factory on small wages and 
struggling to pay off his debts, I learned one day 
that he was in distress for the lack of some money. 
So I offered to lend him twenty dollars. At the 
time my acquaintance with him was slight, and he 
hesitated to accept the money even as a loan. When 
Miss Eishnell assured him that it would be perfectly 
proper he took it, thanking me with such a genuine 
tone of appreciation that it was worth twenty dol- 
lars just to get his gratitude. He promised to pay 
me as soon as possible. In about two months he 
came to my office and paid five dollars. Soon after 
this I went to Europe, and was gone all winter. He 
got my London address somehow and mailed five 
dollars more. The five dollar bill was wrapped in 
a letter which contained this passage : 

“ I guess you think I ain’t caring about paying you. 
But I think of you every day. Here is another five 
dollars. I can’t send any more now. If God lets 
me live, I’ll pay you all I owe you just as soon as I 
can make it. I’m keeping straight and standing on 
the old platform.” 

Soon after my return from Europe, Banford came 
105 


lo6 The Mastery of Love 

to my office and paid the balance of ten dollars. 
He was as happy as a man ever gets when lifting a 
mortgage from his home. His gratitude and joy 
repaid me a thousand per cent, interest on my little 
loan. 

McGregor had become a frequent visitor at the 
settlement. He and Banford were opposites. One 
represented education, culture and doubt, while the 
other was ignorant, coarse and childlike in his 
simple faith. One evening they got into a conver- 
sation in the reading-room which closed in a dis- 
cussion about prayer. “ Do you pray ? ” asked 
McGregor. “ What good will come of it ? ” Ban- 
ford looked perplexed and grieved as he spoke: 
“ Well, if I was as mean as I used to be, I know I 
wouldn’t pray at all. Thank God He heard my 
prayer for pardon. He took away that old hard, 
bitter heart that I used to have and He gave me a 
heart that is tender and kind. I pray now because 
I can’t help it. I always want the best to happen. 
I used to wish for the worst to happen. God gave 
me this new heart. As God gave me this heart it 
must be like His own. For I think He wants the 
best to happen too. So if I did not wish for the 
best and long for the best, I feel that I wouldn’t be 
like God. I must pray to be like Jesus. He loved 
everybody and always wanted the best to happen 
to everybody. If I don’t live that way my heart 
will get hard and bitter again.” 

These words seemed to make a deep impression 
on McGregor who asked in a thoughtful manner : 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 107 

“You are sure then, are you, Mr. Banford, that 
your prayers make some difference with God, that 
God did something for you that He would not have 
done if you had not prayed ? ” “I don’t know,” 
replied Banford, “ what God would have done if I 
hadn’t prayed. I don’t know anything about that. 
I do know when I prayed it made a great differ- 
ence with me. I know my heart began to change 
as soon as I heard Miss Kishnell pray. That was 
the first prayer I ever heard. It went all through 
me. It made me ashamed of myself. I began to 
want to be better, but I couldn’t. I tried and I 
failed. And then I got so troubled about my sins 
that I just cried in my heart for God to drop all 
the past and let me start over. Somehow it all 
changed. I ain’t the same feUer. I ain’t nothing 
like I was then. If Miss Kishnell hadn’t prayed 
for me, I don’t know where I would be to-night. I 
guess I would be in hell. Yes, she saved me. She 
prayed and it made a difference, somehow. I don’t 
know how. I am here and I’m sure different.” 

Banford paused as if his emotions were about 
to get beyond his control. McGregor broke the 
silence by saying : “I suppose then, Banford, that 
you pray a great deal and really enjoy praying ? ” 
“ Pray a good deal ? That I do. I pray all the 
time. It’s my breath. It seems my heart is just 
one big prayer all the time that everybody may be 
good and kind and glad. I have to live that way. 
If I didn’t I would sin sure. If I stop praying a 
minute the devil is right after me. I think all 


io8 The Mastery of Love 

sorts of meanness. Then in a little while I start 
to do the mean things I thought about. So I have 
to pray all the time to keep away bad thoughts. 
It’s the upward pull of prayer that keeps me from 
sin every day.” 

There was a moment’s silence. Then McGregor 
said with a big smile : “ Well, Banford, I guess you 
are sure that you are going to heaven ! ” “ Yes, sir, 

dead sure of it, if I don’t run by ! ” At this they 
all had a hearty laugh and Miss KishneU announced 
that it was time to close the reading-room. 

Judging from this discussion, one might infer 
that McGregor was very skeptical and almost 
irreverent. On the contrary he was so intense in 
his beliefs that he regarded it a religious duty on 
his part to combat error. Having been in college 
with him, I knew his better self. It was his ex- 
treme conscientiousness that led people to misun- 
derstand him. His hatred for hypocrisy was ter- 
rible. I have seen him simply rave with anger at 
the discovery of something false in others. Even 
his dearest friends were not immune from his ter- 
rific and scorching condemnation. Yet he really 
had a tender heart. Anything that looked like 
sham or make-believe or falsehood simply enraged 
him, and at times to such an extent that he seemed 
almost insane for the moment. I have seen him 
pounce upon a friend denouncing a seeming un- 
truth with such unrelenting fury that his words 
were almost paralyzing. Then seeing how crushed 
and pained his friend was, he would reproach him- 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 109 

self for unkindness. He was a lovable man, and 
yet the most misunderstood person in the city. 

Even his own teachers misunderstood him. At 
one time it was his purpose to become a preacher. 
He had graduated in a leading college in Tennessee 
and spent nearly two years in a theological semi- 
nary. While in the seminary he became over- 
whelmed in doubt. He grew very bitter and spent 
his time pointing out the hypocrisy and shams of 
society. He then left the seminary and entered a 
law school, where he graduated with high honors. 
His experience in the seminary was most unfortu- 
nate. He was brilliant and independent in thought. 
And there was all the while in his heart a noble 
impulse to be of service. So he frequently went 
to the labor union meetings, where he heard of the 
terrible struggles of the masses. 

At this time he was about thirty-two years of 
age, practicing law much as a pastime. His real 
business was to think out a philosophy of life for 
himself. As I knew of his struggles I was anxious 
to get him in touch with the reality of life at the 
settlement, hoping that possibly this might be the 
means of restoring his confidence in humanity and 
lead him back into a joyous faith in prayer and 
Providence. My efforts to get him interested in 
the settlement, however, were not without mis- 
givings. For I never knew what he might say or 
do. He had such a propensity for iconoclasm that 
I never knew what moment he might with one 
sledge-hammer blow smash into “ smithereens ” 


110 


The Mastery of Love 

some established opinion or belief. To have such 
a man in the settlement, I feared, might be too 
much like the proverbial “ bull in the china shop.” 
Nevertheless, I knew he was sincere and I knew 
such a note at least would please the boys. After 
he had become a regular visitor at the reading- 
room, the boys admired him greatly. He was a 
sort of hero to them. They would call on him for 
all sorts of favors, and it was his joy to serve them. 
He was soon looked upon as their legal adviser 
and friend. He was never happier than when de- 
fending some poor fellow in trouble. Money 
meant nothing to him. His one idea of life 
seemed to be absolute unswerving devotion to 
truth. 

One evening on our way over to the settlement, 
we got to talking about the Church and I insisted 
that he ought not to fight the Church, that his 
antagonism was being misunderstood and so his 
infiuence for good was weakened. It was a frank, 
friendly talk, but I saw his convictions were so 
intense that it would be somewhat hazardous to 
follow him far in that discussion. 

We found a fine crowd of working men at the 
club. Among them were several theological 
students from the seminary, who sat around as 
wiseacres with self-complacent smiles. They were 
quite ill at ease in such a company. There were 
probably seventy-five or eighty men in the room — 
hard working, hard headed, independent men. 
McGregor seemed perfectly at home. 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 1 1 1 

Presently there was a sort of lull in the games 
and conversation and I observed Miss Kishnell 
studying the situation. She walked over to Mr. 
McGregor and asked him to speak to the men. 
He hesitated but finally consented to talk. Miss 
Eishnell then went to the platform and announced : 
“Gentlemen, all that would like to hear Mr. 
McGregor speak, please raise your hand.” Every 
hand shot up. I knew that this probably meant a 
cyclone and I dreaded the lightning ; for there was 
no telling where it might strike. Miss Eishnell 
seemed quite pleased : I have always suspected that 
she anticipated the effort in a half playful humor, 
thinking that McGregor would give the men some 
spicy fun at the expense of the “ theologs.” 

As he walked forward and took his place on the 
platform he looked every inch a prince. Tall, 
slender, straight, with wavy black hair mingled 
with just enough of gray to tell of his mental 
struggles and of the hungering anguish of his 
heart. Below a two story forehead was a long 
nose, with a ridge of courage in the centre. His 
ears were generous and his lower jaw was set with 
determination enough to command the whole British 
navy. His eyes were as clear and fresh and un- 
certain as an April sky after a storm. 

He began by saying that he had no speech and 
asked if some one would not volunteer to suggest a 
subject. A young socialist back in the room yelled 
out : “ Tell us about the Church.” Then his eyes 
began to dance and sparkle as bespoke: “Well, 


112 


The Mastery of Love 

that is a big subject, and yet I have thought about 
it a great deal. 

“ Unreality is the trouble with the Church. I 
presume that sounds irreverent to you. But the 
Church is too selfishly unworldly. She is so con- 
cerned about her respectability, about her other- 
worldliness, about her rights and privileges, about 
her ordinances and creeds and names and boundary 
lines that she has too little time left for downright 
service to every-day folks. The Church is too far 
from the common people. The Church talks a 
great deal about service, but when you get at the 
facts, that means the Church is to be served. The 
secret is the Church has become unconsciously self- 
ish. She too often goes into a community with 
the commercial motive of success rather than the 
missionary motive of saving the people. The 
Church has become too anxious about her own life 
to do her best work. She must lose her life in 
order to gain the highest life, not for herself but 
for the people. 

‘‘Then there is too much mediasval sham and 
make-believe in her methods. Why, for example, 
the clergy themselves are called ‘ reverend.’ And 
they like it. They actually feel slighted if you 
write just plain ‘ Mr.’ It must be ‘ Kev.’ with a 
big R. Now I don’t revere any preacher alive, 
and until I do find one that I revere I don’t intend 
to use that title. 

“ Some time ago I noticed the Bishop of London 
was in New York. The church papers and even 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 113 

the best magazines in this country wrote of ‘ His 
Holiness.’ People introduced him all over the 
East as ‘ His Holiness.’ Think of Peter addressing 
the great Commoner of Galilee as ‘ His Holiness.’ 
You can’t imagine such a thing and yet He alone 
was worthy of such a title. All these Christians 
in the high places of earth who appropriate the 
titles of ‘ Keverend,’ ‘ Majesty,’ ‘ Excellency,’ and 
‘ Holiness ’ are either hypocrites or slaves of a silly 
custom. Why, I saw a Methodist bishop referred to 
in a church paper the other day as ‘ The Eight Eev- 
erend Bishop . ’ That is dangerously near pro- 

fanity. How, I have never seen but one person 
on earth that I would call ‘ Eeverend ’ — and that is 
my mother. She was ‘ The only Eight Eeverend ’ 
that I ever saw. Yet she is a poor hard working 
woman who never had an honor shown her in the 
Church in all her life. But the world never saw, 
I believe, a more saintly soul. Her majestic purity 
and her quiet unswerving devotion to truth and 
right in all the little experiences of life — her joyous 
hope in the ultimate triumph of Christ, make her 
more worthy of the title of holiness than any bishop 
or archbishop or pope that ever wore false colors. 

“ There are two classes of preachers these days. 
Those that make good as preachers are called 
doctors of divinity, and the others are just ordinary 
reverends. Titles are too often mere crutches for 
weak men. Any real man, any downright honest 
man, any genuinely God-inspired man, would 
utterly despise these D.D.’s and reverends, and 


114 The Mastery of Love 

right reverends and holinesses. If you will just 
clothe the ministry with reality and the Church 
with the spmt of service, Christianity will win in 
a walk.” 

As he walked back to his seat and sat down the 
men applauded vigorously. Until now I was 
afraid to look back, thinking that possibly the 
Methodist preacher might be present. On looking 
round I saw him sitting near the door, and in the 
act of rising. He walked forward and asked for 
the privilege of speaking. 

I never until then wished for anybody to faint or 
for the sound of the fire alarm or for an earthquake^ 
but anything seemed preferable to that situation. 1 
knew the dear old preacher was going up against 
a buzz-saw and I pitied him. I feared too that he 
might get McGregor’s Scotch blood to boiling, and 
cause him to say things that would really be harm- 
ful, and especially to the settlement. 

The preacher had a chew of tobacco in his mouth 
which he found inconvenient when he reached the 
platform. So he turned and took two or three 
steps towards the corner of the room and then ex- 
pectorated quid and all on the floor. Turning 
towards McGregor he entered into a tirade of abuse, 
accusing him of being an infidel and a socialist 
and an enemy of the Church of Christ. He claimed 
that the episcopacy was a holy and divine order 
and that it was an outrage for any man to be allowed 
to talk in public as McGregor had. He went on 
quite at length, preaching a sermonette — the latter 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 115 

part being a sort of theological hodge-podge, meant 
evidently to convince those few theological students 
of his scholarly attainments. He made reference to 
the doctrine of “ total depravity ” occasioned by the 
“ fall of Adam ” and how it was time for us to be 
praying for pardon and cleansing from sin rather 
than abusing the Church through which alone we 
could be saved. He closed his talk with a prayer 
which was a sort of browbeating for McGregor’s 
special benefit. 

The preacher had scarcely said “ Amen ” till Mc- 
Gregor was on his feet. “Gentlemen, I haven’t 
the slightest respect for any preacher who isn’t 
clean in body and mind and heart. And you 
[pointing to the preacher] are certainly not clean in 
body. I think there ought to be a federal law 
against preachers using tobacco, if for no other 
reason than to abate the evil of profanity. Why, 
here are these holinesses going about here chewing 
and spitting and smoking. They go into the homes 
where the mothers have been teaching their boys 
never to use tobacco and whiskey, and there you 
smoking Reverends become a stench in the drawing- 
room of every decent home you visit. 

“ I don’t like your theology any more than your 
tobacco. You are teaching that old falsehood of 
‘total depravity.’ Human nature is white with 
black spots ; not black with white spots. You and 
the theologians would make us believe that it is so 
black that there are not even any white specks. 
You talk as if you were the amanuenses of the Al- 


Ii6 The Mastery of Love 

mighty when you say that when Adam fell the 
whole human race was doomed to be submerged in 
total depravity. You say that God really meant to 
make a perfectly developed character in creating 
Adam and that his perfection was so absolute that 
growth was impossible. How then could the crea- 
ture in one act destroy the work of his Creator 
even to changing the essence of his own soul? 
Worse still how could a man living centuries ago 
with his own little puny strength defeat the pur- 
pose of God forever ? This whole doctrine of total 
depravity is a slander on Jehovah. I defy any 
really good man to believe it and at the same time 
believe that God is love. 

“ Preachers talk as if Adam was a junior partner 
with the Almighty. He has no doubt been amused 
all these centuries over his notoriety. Poor Adam, 
no man was ever so talked about. . He is the worst 
‘ cussed ’ man that ever lived. You can just fancy 
him to-day with his dear wife walking down the 
golden streets of the Hew Jerusalem, when some 
angel darts down like a meteor of white and an- 
nounces the latest thing the theologians on earth 
have said about him : ‘ Mr. Adam, the father of 
theologians in the great Oxford University has just 
written a new book in which he says : “ The great- 
est tragedy of all the ages was the fall of Adam, 
for it has caused the universal diffusion of death 
over the human race.” ’ Imagine Adam wondering 
what he is talking about. Then he explains : 
‘ Why, Mr. Adam, you are the most famous man on 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 117 

earth. Your name is in millions of books. The 
hundreds of thousands of preachers talk about you 
and blame you for all the meanness on that planet. 
The theologians claim that you undid the work of Je- 
hovah and completely upset His plan of the universe.’ 

“ But if you could see Adam to-day I feel sure he 
would not be talking of total depravity. On some 
far off planet beyond the reach of the sun’s light or 
the North Star’s view where spirits of a thousand 
worlds tabernacle not in bodies of flesh and blood, 
but in dwellings of finer stuff, where persons live 
their ideals with holy zeal, where to pray is to re- 
ceive, and to yearn is to be, where through the long 
climb of the ages human life is approaching divinity 
— there is Adam as different from the man of Eden 
as an unborn babe is from the glory crowned Prince 
of thinkers who preached in Galilee. If Adam 
ever fell at all, he fell up, not down. The God 
who built this world, who set the stars in the 
heavens, who swings the planets round the sun in 
perfect poise, who permitted the Alexandrian 
library to burn and Jesus to be crucified, who 
clothes the lilies with beauty and gives the birds 
their song and makes children laugh — ^that God, I 
know, never was defeated in His aim by one man or 
a million men. Man is in the process of creation. 
God is making him gradually. Adam was just 
about what God meant for him to be. He may 
have wabbled a little, but he kept in God’s road 
and walked forward. Ever since Adam lived God 
has been at work creating man. Each generation 


ii8 The Mastery of Love 

is better than the preceding, and a little nearer our 
divine Ideal, Christ. God is enjoying His work 
and He knows exactly what He is about. What 
God will ultimately make of man, no one but He 
knows. Certainly the theologians don’t know, but 
they can work with God in the glory of this im- 
mortal creation. But no one can ever work with 
God until he learns to think straight, to keep clean 
and to be honest. 

“ How, please excuse me if I have hurt anybody’s 
feelings by what I have said. Of course, I know 
that there are many great and good men in the 
ministry — ^most of them are noble men, and for 
them I have no word but praise, but this evening I 
have been talking about the others.” 

As McGregor walked back to his seat, George 
Hughes arose to speak. He is a mechanic with a 
large family. He is a poor, honest, hard-working 
man, who is devoted to his home and loves his 
church. This was his speech : “ I can’t make a 
speech, but I feel that I ought to say what’s on my 
heart. Mr. McGregor and Brother Booker have 
said many good things. I want to thank them 
both for being here and for speaking to us men. 
They don’t agree, but that’s all right. They are 
both our friends and good men. 

“ But I tell you how I feel. Both of them are 
right in part and both are wrong in part. Brother 
Booker will excuse me for saying that he is wrong 
too, but I believe you are^ You don’t understand 
Mr. McGregor as we do. He is our friend and we 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 119 

love him. You ought to represent Jesus Christ in 
all you say and do. But I don’t believe Jesus 
would do some things that you do. And I think 
Jesus would do some things that you do not. I 
hardly think Jesus would lose His temper as you 
have this evening. But we are all imperfect. 
And we’ll love you just as much to-morrow, Brother 
Booker, as we did yesterday. 

“ And I believe Mr. McGregor is wrong too in 
part. Unfortunately you have been associated with 
too many bad preachers. I am sorry that any 
preacher is unworthy. But even the twelve apostles 
were not perfect. Jesus picked them out and 
thought they would make the best preachers. But 
among them was Judas. 

“Yet think of Peter and John and James and 
Paul and the others. They were good men. Hot 
all the time — Peter lied, and even John got angry. 
But think of what they were at their best — Peter 
on the Day of Pentecost and John writing ‘ God is 
Love.’ So it is with the preachers to-day. Some 
of them may be as bad as Judas, but not more than 
one in twelve. But I want you to think of the 
good men who are preaching the Gospel. The 
worst men I know are not preachers. The purest 
and best men I ever knew are preachers. 

“ I want to tell you what a preacher did for me 
once. I was living at Murfreesboro. And I got 
sick and my children were small and wife was hav- 
ing a hard time. I wasn’t a member of the church 
then, but somehow the preacher heard I was sick 


120 


The Mastery of Love 

and he came over to see me. I was too sick to talk 
much. But I guess he saw that I was worried 
about my children and sorry that my wife had to 
work so hard. So before he left he kneeled by my 
bed and prayed for me. He prayed for God to 
give me health and to bless my wife and children. 
He used these words in his prayer which I can 
never forget : ‘ O God, bless Brother Hughes and 
help me to be a true brother to him and his family 
while he is sick.’ 

“ Then what do you suppose he did ? He took 
my hand and said: ‘Brother Hughes, don’t you 
worry. I’ll look after your family and see that 
they get everything they need.’ About an hour 
later my wife came in the room and said : ‘ All 
you have to do is just to get weU ; there is a whole 
wagon load of groceries and things at the gate for 
us.’ She read a note which the driver gave her 
from the preacher. He said he was sending the 
groceries because he thought we might need them. 
Poor wife was so overcome that she broke down 
and wept ; for the children were very hungry, they 
had been crying nearly all day. Well, that dear 
preacher stood by me just like a brother sure 
enough. He came to see me every day and kept 
sending things that we needed till I got well. 
When I was able to walk about a little, I asked 
him one day why he was so kind to us. He seemed 
to be surprised at my question, and said : ‘ Why, 
I’m not specially kind to you. I try to be kind and 
helpful to everybody. That is my only business — 


McGregor’s Criticism of the Church 121 

just to be brotherly and help people. I am simply 
trying to be a Christian. It is the sweetest, hap- 
piest life on earth,’ he said. 

“ Now, that suited me. And before I was strong 
enough to go to church, I asked him to baptize us. 
That was the greatest day of my life. He baptized 
every one of us — my wife and myself and our five 
children. I didn’t Imow much about it then, but I 
told him that we all wanted to be baptized. We 
even had the baby baptized. That was the hap- 
piest day I ever had. 

“ Now that has been nearly eighteen years ago. 
I have been trying all this time to pay him back 
for his kindness. But I can never repay him. I 
love him more than my own brother. As long as 
the Church gives us such preachers, I can never 
speak a word against the Church. 

“ Mr. McGregor accuses the Church of unreality. 
Well, that may be just. But remember the best 
people on earth are in the Church. The best people 
always have been in the Church, and the worst peo- 
ple have always been fighting the Church. Who 
can imagine what this world would be if there had 
never been a Church ? It would be a hell indeed. 
The Church has given the world the Bible, which 
has given us our laws, our liberty and our hope of 
heaven. Even if there are some hypocrites in the 
pulpit and some wicked men in the pew, I am go- 
ing to be loyal to the Church, because it has brought 
more blessing to me and my home than everything 
else ‘ in the world.’ ” 


122 


The Mastery of Love 

At the close of Mr. Hughes’ talk, Miss Eishnell 
made a few conciliatory remarks and then dis- 
missed the audience with a beautiful prayer that all 
might so learn of Christ as to live brotherly every 
day. 


VI 


\ 

Some of McGregor’s Letters 



i 


( 


VI 


SOME OP McGEEGOE’S LETTEES 

I N the fall of 1906 McGregor went to Louis- 
ville, where he accepted a position as attorney 
for a big business corporation. But he was 
too honest for modern business. When the firm 
reached some crisis in its affairs the directors 
wanted him to negotiate a secret and underhanded 
deal, which he positively refused to do, saying: 
“Gentlemen, I’ll starve before I’ll be dishonest 
with any man, or be untrue to my conviction of 
what is right.” This severed his connection with 
the firm, and after about eighteen months he re- 
turned to his own city. 

During his stay in Louisville we wrote each other 
irregularly. He seemed to use his correspondence 
with me as a sort of safety valve to prevent an ex- 
plosion of indignation. 

For example here is a letter written soon after he 
went to Louisville : 

“ My dear Mac : 

“ This is ‘ blue Monday ’ with me. I have 
the genuine preacher’s ‘ blue Monday.’ I never 
knew what this disease was before. In fact I had 
thought it was all due to color blindness, and that 
flowers were just as beautiful on Monday as on any 
other day. But now I see that there is something 
125 


126 The Mastery of Love 

real in this ‘ blue Monday ’ talk. I caught the dis- 
ease from hearing a preacher yesterday. I was in- 
oculated before he got half way through his sermon. 
Everybody present was inoculated too. The 
preacher was ‘ blue ’ — terribly ‘ blue.’ He did not 
smile through the whole performance. He cried 
two or three times where there was nothing pa- 
thetic in sight. Everybody got the mental dry 
grins at watching him weep and whine and frown 
and pound the pulpit and yell as if we were all deaf. 
The most powerful microscope would not have 
shown the slightest trace of an idea in his sermon. 
He evidently meant to preach about repentance. 
At least he said he was trying to do so. It was 
painfully certain that he had no clear-cut idea of 
repentance himself. If he ever had repented of 
anything, he had forgotten all about it ; for he 
never once revealed the slightest consciousness of 
such an experience. He certainly didn’t know 
what Jesus had taught about this subject. He had 
passed over his own experience — if he ever had any 
— and he ignored the only real authority on this 
subject ; and apparently had spent all his time of 
preparation in browsing around in the dead pas- 
tures of mediaeval theology. He tried to quote 
from John Calvin who certainly had something to 
repent of since he murdered Servetus for thinking. 
He then paid his respects to Augustine and Luther 
and, of course, John Wesley. The entire hour was 
spent in talking — mostly yelling — about dead men’s 
ideas and quoting from dead books. Before he got 
through the very atmosphere had the smell of dust 
and death and hypocrisy. He was one of the noted 
D.D.’s too. 

“ The only really interesting moment during the 
dull drag of that solemn hour was when some wag 
passed the door of the church and called out to 


127 


Some of McGregor’s Letters 

a fellow across the street : ‘ Say, Fred, don’t you 
bet that’s a thunderin’ long dry spell in there ? ’ 
This remark touched off a spicy breeze of merri- , 
ment that swept cheerfully over the whole congre- 
gation. But it didn’t faze the preacher, who went 
drearily on grinding at his miserable theological 
machine. 

“It was a positive relief when he ^uit. The 
people, too, couldn’t keep from showing it. It was 
all clear to me then why most of his pews were 
empty. The only smile he elicited during that 
hour was when he closed the Bible with a slam and 
said, ‘ Now in conclusion.’ It was too clear that the 
people were glad of the end, and nothing but the 
end. It was bitter medicine for us all. Worst of 
all it was absolutely worthless treatment. I don’t 
believe that sermon would help anybody. It was 
injurious to the preacher and to the audience. The 
unreality of the whole performance produced a sort 
of mental nausea. I am sure this is a ‘ blue Mon- 
day ’ for that preacher. It is certainly ‘ blue ’ for 
me. If I knew him I would take him to the base- 
ball park just to let him see something modern and 
alive. His yelling habits would make him a star 
rooter. But as I don’t know him I’ll go to the 
game alone. So here I go. Good-bye. 

“ Your friend, 

“ John.” 

It was not many weeks after this letter came till 
I was more than ever amused on the receipt of the 
following : 

“Dear Mac: 

“ Excuse me for writing on Sunday but I am 
seasick. Have just returned from a long theolog- 


128 The Mastery of Love 

ical voyage and must do something to reset my 
mental stomach. I went out this morning to hear 
the college president preach. He took for his text 
John vii. 37-38 : ‘In the last day, that great day 
of the feast, Jesus stood and cried ; saying, if any 
man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink. He 
that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, 
out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.’ 

“ He evidently preferred the King James Version 
because it contains that vulgar phrase ‘ out of his 
belly.’ He wrung the changes on that phrase until 
I was about to leave the house. Why didn’t he 
use the American Ke vised Version, which renders 
that old Hebrew metaphor ‘ from within him ’ ? I 
guess he had some lingering superstition that the 
words ‘ out of his belly ’ were ‘ inspired.’ 

“ When I got to the church I was impressed with 
the number of men present. It was a fine oppor- 
tunity for any speaker. When the preacher was in- 
troduced I felt that this college president would 
measure up to the opportunity and preach in a 
helpful way to the men. But instead of speaking 
to the hearts and consciences of these men, he went 
off into a theological discussion. He talked about 
the ‘selfhood of the third person of the Holy 
Trinity,’ about ‘ the Councils of the Trinity,’ about 
‘ the eternal plan of the Godhead,’ about ‘ the 
infinite felicity of the adorable trinity of God.’ He 
spent at least twenty minutes dishing out this stale 
theology to those hungry men. It was painful to 
see that eminent I). D. — a sort of Dean D. D. — 
stand there preaching half of his time about things 
that were absolutely unknowable. Ho one but a 
fool or hypocrite would dare do such a thing. 
What does he or anybody know about ‘ the Coun- 
cils of the Trinity ’ ? I am sure there wasn’t a man 
present who cared a rap for such councils if there 


Some of McGregor’s Letters 129 

ever were any. Besides, I believe I could take his 
own words and prove to any unprejudiced jury that 
he actually believes in three Gods. If his words 
mean anything he believes that, and he taught that 
this morning. Yet he would deny it because this 
is not orthodox. The fact is, too many preachers 
have no courage. They preach, not what they 
actually believe themselves, but what the orthodox 
books teach. They are slaves of orthodoxy and 
echoes of dead men’s books. I despise such men. 
They are a curse to society wherever they go. 

“The last part of this morning’s sermon was 
devoted to a discussion of the ‘ rivers of living 
water.’ The preacher said that Paul had told us 
just what these rivers are. He said there were 
nine. Then he turned to Paul’s letter to the Gala- 
tians and read the names : ‘ Love, joy, peace, long- 
suffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, 
self-control. ’ ‘ These are the rivers of living waters,’ 

he claimed. Then he took us on ‘ excursions,’ as he 
said, down these various rivers. We had a sort of 
moonlight excursion down the river of love that 
was really interesting in a way because of the 
novelty of the preacher’s performance. Then we 
took a sail down the ‘ classic banks ’ of the river 
of joy. Gee whiz, but it was a dull time ! We 
thus explored the entire nine rivers by means of the 
intellectual search-light of the preacher. I pledge 
you this was no child’s play. Some of the rivers 
were as long as the Hile and as broad as the 
Amazon, and our pilot insisted on showing us every- 
thing in sight. Columbus and Livingstone must 
now take back seats as explorers. 

“ When we got to the head of navigation on the 
river of self-control, we all took a sigh of relief, 
thinking we were about to disembark. But not yet, 
except two or three Jonahs who took their hats and 


130 The Mastery of Love 



the river Styx where we had pointed out to us all 
the bitter fruits of the world and the flesh and the 
devil. ‘ Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lascivi- 
ousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, 
emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envy- 
ings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such 
like.’ 

“ From all these we were exhorted to flee — some- 
thing we were already quite anxious to do. Then 
the preacher closed ‘these few remarks,’ having 
spent about forty-five minutes discussing things 
generally, all the way from the ‘ Councils of the 
Trinity,’ to the harvest of hades, and never once 
said a word that was helpful to living tempted men 
and women. May heaven pity the stupidity of the 
preacher and all his tribe. 

“ Going to church doesn’t seem to agree with my 
constitution, so I think I had better quit going. 

“ Mac, I am coming back to see you soon ; this 
firm doesn’t seem to like my way of looking at 
things. I am determined to be honest if the 
heavens fall, but I don’t think they will fall either. 

“As ever, 

“ John.” 


When McGregor returned from Louisville he 
became one of the most regular attendants at the 
settlement. He frequently talked for the men. 
One of his talks will illustrate the intensity of his 
feelings, even in the quiet of the club room. 

“ I heard a socialist say in a speech recently : 
‘ Gold is god in America.’ By his gesture and tone 
I knew he believed it. And he is no fool. Not 


Some of McGregor’s Letters 131 

only does he believe that ‘ Gold is god in America,’ 
but he was applauded by about five hundred work- 
ing men who heard him say it. And they are not 
fools either. Neither were they mad. Many of 
them were quietly smoking cigars which they held 
between their teeth while they applauded. On that 
same Saturday night, there were hundreds of other 
labor meetings being held all over America, and 
millions of men, working men, were applauding 
similar sentunents. 

“ The supremely important fact about this state 
of affairs is not whether this statement is true. It 
may or may not be true. The all important ques- 
tion is do these millions of working men really 
believe that ‘ Gold is god in America ’ ? Do they 
think that those that rule in business and in politics 
and in the Church are infiuenced more in their 
daily lives by money than by God ? If one will 
take the trouble to attend a few labor meetings and 
hear socialist speakers, he will be overwhelmingly 
convinced that they do believe that business, 
politics, and the Church in America are ruled by 
the cold, hard hand of wealth. 

“ The time has come when rich men are to be 
judged by the character of their business. Back of 
a pagan business is a pagan, let his profession be 
what it may. The business of a Christian must be 
conducted not to make money, but as a civilizing 
and educative agency. If one is a Christian his 
first duty is to make his business Christian. If one 
professes to be a Christian and conducts his business 


132 The Mastery of Love 

on unchristian principles his name is ^ whited sepul- 
chre.’ There are some big sepulchres in this coun- 
try and it takes millions of dollars each year to 
keep them whitewashed. 

“ Another reason why working men believe that 
gold is god in America is the habit of the govern- 
ment in showing deference to rich criminals and a 
lack of consideration to poor criminals. When the 
great and good senator, E. W. Carmack, of Ten- 
nessee, was murdered, the assassins, backed by 
wealth, were taken to jail in a closed carriage ; were 
given the choice cells, which were then equipped 
with conveniences that made their life quite com- 
fortable, were left with unlocked doors and given 
the privileges of the office and halls of the entire 
building. At the same time a poor suspect, 
wounded in a riot in West Tennessee, lay in the 
city hospital in a dying condition with his feet 
blistering in heavy chains. There were extenuat- 
ing circumstances favoring the man in the hospital ; 
but being poor and having no rich friends he had to 
suffer like a dog, while the more cruel murderers 
in jail were accorded the consideration of princes, 
because of money. Gold is god in government. 

“ Another reason why working men think gold is 
god is that the big city churches are ruled by 
wealth. At least they think so. These churches uni- 
formly elect only rich men on their official boards, 
not because they are the most consecrated men, 
but because they give more to the church. The 
big city church is a financial institution conducted 


Some of McGregor’s Letters 133 

on the basis of a club. A few rich men really de- 
cide everything. The church is built to please the 
oligarchy, it is located for the oligarchy, and the 
services are conducted for the sake of the oligarchy. 
This oligarchy chooses the preacher, not for the 
Gospel he preaches, but for what he keeps from 
preaching. They are fearfully concerned about 
having a safe orthodox preacher. They pay a 
quartet to sing and show off as a sort oi theatrical 
background for the sermon ; not because they ap- 
preciate the music, nor because the people care a 
flip for the quartet in church, but because they have 
become accustomed to hearing something that 
sounds like it at the matinee, and so they would 
feel horrified not to be in style. But it isn’t wor- 
ship. I defy anybody to really worship while a 
modern quartet is in operation. It is impossible. 
You can’t do it even with your eyes shut. Kow if 
the leaders in business and in government and in 
the church do not quit playing false for money, then 
I predict that our country will be in the grip of 
socialism within two decades. The present condi- 
tions are utterly intolerable. Simply let God be 
God and the God-fearing people will be satisfied, 
but they will never be at peace while gold is god 
anywhere.” 

At the close of this speech Miss Eishnell arose 
and said : ‘‘ Mr. McGregor, I don’t want to contra- 
dict what you have been saying because it is all too 
painfully true, but I do wish to say a few words in 
defense of some wealthy people I know, who are as 


134 The Mastery of Love 

loyally following Christ as the humblest poor man 
who walks in His steps. Gentlemen, many of you 
know a Mrs. Frank Wiseman who comes out here 
once a week and teaches in our industrial school. 
But most of you don’t know that she is one of the 
wealthiest women in the city. She has a magnifi- 
cent home simply but elegantly furnished. Her 
mode of life is also very simple. I believe she spends 
less money on what you consider the luxuries of life 
than some of you do. Her husband occupies such a 
position that she has had unexcelled opportunities 
for travel and culture. And though she comes out 
weekly, and has often met you and your mothers 
and sisters, none of you have been able to discover 
by her dress or actions the slightest selfishness or 
lack of sympathy. You have never seen any 
parade of jewelry or silks, or expensive furs, or 
carriage with brilliant equipage, or automobile. 
She usually comes out here on the street car, often 
walks and stops at some home and leaves a deli- 
cacy, which she herself has prepared, for some sick 
child. 

“Not only so, but you remember when Nora 

was taken away by her brutal father 

and consigned to a life of sin in that vile place 
in Guthrie? I wanted to go to bring the child 
back, but my board was not willing to spend 
so much money on what they regarded as an 
impossible thing. It was Mrs. Wiseman’s money 
that paid the expenses of that trip. You doubt- 
less remember also when Sally got mixed 


Some of McGregor^s Letters 135 

up with that worthless boy and as everybody 
expressed it ‘was going to the dogs.’ One hun- 
dred dollars was needed to place her in the in- 
dustrial school, a carriage was needed to carry her 
out there. Mrs. Wiseman furnished both. 

“ Shall I also refer you to the time when Carrie 

was so badly used up over at the canning 

factory? Money was needed to provide medical 
service, a lawyer was needed to see that she got 
justice and redress for her injuries. I simply tele- 
phoned Mrs. Wiseman and she employed her own 
physician and lawyer. I could cite other incidents, 
when, after a simple ’phone call, her grocer has de- 
livered baskets of provision to suffering families, 
and until now no one except Mrs. Wiseman and I 
and God have known where all this money and help 
have come from. 

“ i^'ow, she is not the only wealthy person who 
helps this institution and your people in this quiet, 
beautiful way. There are several others. I know 
Mr. McGregor’s statements are true, but he hasn’t 
stated all the truth. I don’t want you men to go 
out from here and feel bitter in your hearts towards 
the rich folk, because that would be just as sinful on 
your part as the worship of gold is on theirs. I 
want you to recognize true nobility of character 
wherever you find it, whether among rich or poor. 
I believe it is as wrong for us to think or say that 
all rich people are selfish and hypocritical, as it is 
for them or us to think or say that all poor people 
are shiftless and criminal. In the sight of God I 


136 The Mastery of Love 

would just as soon be the one as the other. In 
eternity they will both come out even. 

“ It is painful to me to know that Mr. Eeynolds’ 
stable cost more than any ten of these homes in 
Hell’s Acre combined, and that he spends more 
money on his servants and horses and automobiles 
than is spent to educate all the children in this 
ward. He spends more for cigars than for the 
conversion of the whole heathen world ! But on 
the other hand there is Mr. Keid, of that large 
lumber concern, you all know him, who conducts 
his business along thoroughly Christian lines and 
any one of his employees would die for him any 
minute. Hot long since I heard Mrs. Lomar of the 
Episcopal Church say that she could not possibly 
give more than ten dollars this year to home and 
foreign missions, when only the week before I was 
in her home when she paid forty-seven dollars for 
her winter hat and $115 for winter furs. But at 
the same time I recall Mrs. Kawlings, who lives 
just out of this city and is very wealthy, who gives 
more to missions yearly than she spends on herself 
and her three beautiful children. I hope none of 
you will take exceptions to these remarks. Gentle- 
men, you must not allow bitterness of spirit to 
separate you from the wealthy class of people. 
You need them and they need you, and the only 
way we can get together and be mutually helpful 
is by each giving the other a ‘ square deal.’ ” 

Mr. McGregor had a very sympathetic nature. 
His kindness to his aged mother was very beauti- 


Some of McGregor’s Letters 137 

ful. And after all, one’s real character is to be 
seen in his home. One may simply be playing a 
part in public and wear a false veneer of nobility 
of spirit, but in the home his true worth is known. 
This explains many tragedies of life. A husband 
or wife finds that the one who was held as the 
dearest on earth is in reality a hypocrite. Then in 
despair, disappointed love seeks the wedlock of 
death in preference to a living lie. It is also this 
knowing all and trusting supremely that make 
other homes so wonderfully happy. 

McGregor was a poor man. While he was at 
college his mother had taken in sewing to make 
money to help put him through school. All that 
he had saved since graduation had been put in a 
little cottage home far out on the edge of the city. 
That was his joy. He worked the garden and kept 
the yard with his own hands. His yard was a 
blooming paradise of flowers. He enjoyed the 
flowers most of all because his old mother would 
walk out with him as they talked of the beauty 
and fragrance, and she would praise and thank him 
for making the home so lovely. I have never seen 
anything more exquisitely charming than his gentle 
courtesy, loving kindness and thoughtfulness to his 
mother. I have been in that sweet cottage home 
when his attention to her surpassed that of any 
lover for his friend, because his devotion was so 
natural and spontaneous and fervent and her joy 
was so evidently complete in his love for her. 
Whatever others thought of him made no differ- 


138 The Mastery of Love 

ence, his mother believed in him absolutely. I had 
often wondered how he would ever live without 
her. For of all the persons that knew him, she 
seemed to be the only one who thoroughly under- 
stood him and fully appreciated him. 

While I was away from home on an extended 
tour of the Southern colleges, his mother was taken 
suddenly ill. As Miss Kishnell knew her well, she, 
with McGregor, nursed her through those last 
anxious days. Just before death came Mrs. Mc- 
Gregor beckoned for John who was sitting a few 
feet away. He sat down by the bed and took her 
hand in his, kissing it tenderly. “ My dear boy,” 
she said, “ don’t lose heart. Jesus understands you. 
J ust be true to Him. Meet me in heaven. I will 
look for you and pray for you up there till you 
come.” She paused for breath, then continuing, 
her last word was : ‘‘You have been good to me, 
John, you have done your best. God bless you, 
my boy. May God bless you ! ” Then there was 
silence as she passed out into the great beyond, 
leaving her son in unutterable loneliness. 

While I was conducting an institute at Wofford 
College, Spartanburg, S. C., I received this letter : 


“ My dear friend Mac : 

“ My precious mother has ascended to heaven. 
She left us last Tuesday night. I wish I could see 
you. I want to tell you how I feel. I must tell 
some one. You know how mother and I were in 
our little home. But now all is so different. I 


Some of McGregor’s Letters 139 

feel that I can’t live without her. Heaven is very 
real to me now. 

“ You have known my doubts. Well, I am sure 
now that there is a heaven and that mother is there. 
My love for her is so powerful that I feel as if I 
could almost create a heaven for her myself. Yet 
God loves her more than I can and He loves us all. 
That Father love, that mother love, that all-com- 
passing, that all-powerful love has prepared a home 
for her and us. Mac, I believe that with all my 
heart. It all seems clear to me now. 

“ You know people say that I am skeptical and 
they think that is sinful. They don’t understand. 
If I can’t believe a doctrine I can’t. For me to 
talk as if I believed it when I really do not would 
be sin. I am sorry that people misunderstand me. 
But I would rather have everybody on earth call 
me an infidel than to be dishonest in thought. 
Mother said something just before she left that has 
been a wonderful help to me during these sorrow- 
ful hours. She said that Jesus understands me. 
Yes, thank God, He does, and I believe I under- 
stand Him. 

“ Mac, I wish I could tell you just how I feel to- 
night. I feel that I am a citizen of two worlds 
now. This earth though is no longer dear to me, 
except the new hallowed grave where her precious 
body lies. Yes, there is the old question — the res- 
urrection ? But I see it differently, too. Oh, I feel 
that my heart can all but pull that precious body 
out of the ground. And somehow, I believe, God 
will satisfy that longing, and somewhere I will see 
her in the body again or in a body, — at least I shall 
know and she will know ; and I shall still be able 
to make her feel that I love her. 

“I seem to live in almost hearing distance of 
mother. I know she thinks of me and is praying 


140 The Mastery of Love 

for me, for I sometimes feel that her spirit is right 
with me. I have been wondering these days if 
possibly I cannot make her happy still by just liv- 
ing so that my life moment by moment may be 
such as to please her. 

“She asked me to be true to Jesus. That is 
what I want. Oh, that I could just be as pure and 
true and genuine as Jesus ! If I could just have 
His pity for others. His love, and be able to think 
His thoughts and have His ideals and purpose ; oh, 
that would be my heaven indeed ! If I could only 
have His character, I would gladly pour out my 
blood on the cross, or perish in the flames. Suffer- 
ing would be sweet if it would only take away the 
sin and dross of my Life and leave me perfect as He 
is perfect. 

“ Do you know that I have come to feel too that 
possibly this is the very best sort of a world in 
which to develop character. It is a school, and our 
discipline here is only a preparation for the real life 
that is to be. 

“ It seems strange that I should be writing you 
this way, Mac, but I wanted you to know. Yes, I 
will say now, pray for me. Prayer, too, is different 
now. 

“ May God bless you and your work is the prayer 
of your friend, 

“John. 

“ P. S. — By the way. Miss Kishnell was a perfect 
angel in her kindness to mother. I’ll tell you more 
when you come. Eternity will not be long enough 
for me to repay her for her kindnesses to mother.” 


VII 


The Speech of George Andrews 



VII 


THE SPEECH OF GEOEGE ANDEEWS 

I T was a very cold afternoon in February, 
when I was told that an old gentleman was 
waiting at the door of my office to see me. 
On going out I found a man who appeared to be 
about seventy years of age, tall, broad shouldered, 
gray hair and mustache and a powerful jaw, large 
Eoman nose and very small piercing gray eyes. 
He introduced himself as George Andrews and said 
that he had just returned from the heart of South 
America where he had been working as a mission- 
ary among the uncivilized Indians. He then asked 
the privilege of speaking before the students of the 
school. As the institution over which I preside is a 
training-school for missionaries, it seemed quite 
appropriate that he should be given an opportunity 
to represent his field, especially so since no Protes- 
tant missionary has ever worked in the territory he 
had visited. I asked him for his credentials. He 
had none, but he proceeded to tell me of his con- 
version and his experiences since. His story was 
so plausible that I decided to give him an hour and so 
asked him to return the next Friday evening, which 
was the regular time for our public weekly lectures. 

In the meantime he arranged to speak before the 
theological seminary in the city, where his address 
143 


144 The Mastery of Love 

made a “sensational hit.” The papers next morn- 
ing wrote him up as the “ Livingstone of South 
America.” So much had been said of his speech at 
the seminary that when he came to our school a few 
days later, a large company of visitors assembled to 
hear the thrilling adventures of this strange mis- 
sionary. By request of one of the morning papers, 
I had his speech taken down in shorthand which is 
given here precisely as it was delivered. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, I am indeed a stranger 
as your chairman has said, but thank God, I am 
not a stranger to the Lord Christ, whom we all love 
and serve. My object in coming here to-night is to 
tell you of how the Lord has been leading me. Six 
years ago I came over from South America as a 
gold mining prospector. I had made five trips into 
that continent as a placer gold miner. With the 
money thus made, I would come over to this coun- 
try, put up at a hotel, and go around seeing the 
sights, spending my money in riotous living, drink- 
ing, making up sightseeing parties and going to 
theatres. 

“ My last mining trip was into Bolivia just after 
the Spanish War. 

“ I was in this war as scout for General Lawton. 
I was in all the fighting along San Juan and 
Santiago. At the completion of the fighting, quite 
a number of business men from America were at 
Santiago looking at the operations and had con- 
siderable money to invest in the island. But as 
they knew nothing of the country, they asked me 


The Speech of George Andrews 145 

to make a trip up the island on an observation tour 
as they called it in their interests, to acquaint them 
with the natural resources of the country. After 
the completion of this ride up the trail of six hundred 
miles, I returned to IS'ew York, where my report 
was made to the business men for whom I had 
made the trip. 

“ Leaving New York, I went to San Francisco, 
prepared my mining outfit and started again for 
South America in search of gold. Getting together 
six mules, several Incas Indians, my concentrator 
and other equipment, I proceeded to the gold re- 
gion of the Andes. This proved to be my last 
mining trip. I brought the money that I had 
made back to New York and putting up at a hotel, 
went around as usual seeing the sights. 

“ One afternoon I was sitting in the lobby of the 
hotel smoking, when two gentlemen came up to me 
and asked if I would not make up a party to go to 
Chinatown that evening and take that in as a sight- 
seeing. I consented to do so. After dinner we 
strolled into the hotel barroom, had a drink over 
the bar, lighted cigars and journeyed out towards 
Chinatown. Going down Broadway, we crossed 
over to the Bowery, and passing down that street 
we came to a place where a crowd stood on the 
sidewalk listening to singing. We stopped there 
and stood still for a while with the crowd. I 
asked one of the men, ‘ What place is this ? ’ He 
answered, ‘ A mission.’ Then, says I, ‘ What is a 
mission ? ’ The answer I received, as he pointed to 


146 The Mastery of Love 

the door, was, ‘ They have speaking and singing on 
the inside.’ Says I, ‘ Let us go in a while.’ 

“Now as we began to elbow our way through 
the crowd to the door the singing ceased, and just 
as I came through the door the leader on the plat- 
form was giving out this text : ‘ For God so loved 
the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that 
whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but 
have everlasting life.’ I got every word of that 
text as I came through the door. As we walked 
up the aisle of the haU to listen to the discourse, 
the leader repeated the text. In a little while the 
men who were with me wanted to leave the hall. 
It was no place for them ; for they were out for 
pleasure. So was I. We went out on the side- 
walk. Instantly on getting out we began a con- 
troversy about going to Chinatown. I did not feel 
like going now ; for up to this time I had never 
opened a Bible ; had never been in a place of wor- 
ship before. Consequently I knew nothing about 
God, only to blaspheme the name as they do to- 
day. 

“ And I said, ‘ Let’s go back to the hotel.’ Going 
over to Broadway, and on the way up, we began 
stopping in the hotel barrooms. But every place 
we entered, the wording of the text I heard going 
through the doorway of the mission would come up 
through my very soul. ‘ Everlasting life ! ’ ‘ Ever- 
lasting life ! ’ ‘ Everlasting life ! ’ I could not ac- 

count for it. I did not understand it. Till finally 
reaching the hotel and leaving those men on the 


The Speech of George Andrews 147 

lobby floor, I went to the desk, got my key and 
went up to my room. I wished to be alone. Lock- 
ing the door, I was alone. 

“ Taking a seat in the far end of the room I be- 
gan trying to reason the whole thing out. I won- 
dered if there was such a life to attain as ‘ everlast- 
ing life,’ and how do you get it ? I wondered if the 
man who gave out that text in the mission had 
everlasting life ; how did he get it ? Getting to my 
feet I began walking the room, quoting the text, 
for I had it in my heart. After a long time at this 
I got down on my knees by my bedside to pray — 
for the first time in all my life. Keally I did not 
know how to pray. But I just began to cry : ‘ Give 
me everlasting life ! give me everlasting life ! ’ 
The wording of the text came to my aid, and I 
placed God in the prayer. ‘Oh, God, give me 
everlasting life; give me everlasting life!’ But 
there was nothing came from my praying as far as 
my feelings were concerned. No change in any 
way whatever. Getting to my feet I began walk- 
ing the room, thinking, wondering and longing for 
something, I knew not what. Then for the second 
time I went and sat down close to the window 
looking out over that great, terrible city. While I 
sat there this time my past life, like a panorama, 
floated before me. 

“ I thought of myself as a newsboy, for when a 
little shaver I never knew the blessed influence of a 
father or mother or friend. I just came into the 
world somehow and drifted along like a little 


148 The Mastery of Love 

animal. I don’t know how I ever got my name or 
who gave it to me. Long before the Civil War, as 
a wee little tot, I found my way into Hell Kitchen 
in New York. There in Five Points and along the 
Bowery in the rookeries, I lived as an orphan. 

“ My associates daily were members of a gang of 
criminal boys who called themselves the ‘ Brigade 
of Dead Rabbits.’ I soon learned of underground 
horrible dens where murderers worked. They 
called themselves ‘ wharf rats ’ and ‘ sewer rats.’ I 
have seen dozens of trap-doors and partition devices 
for robbing and murdering people. I knew these 
fiends, lived with them, saw them engaging in their 
hellish work and never knew a pure, good man or 
woman till I entered the Civil War. That early life 
was hell indeed. You might say that most of my 
life has been lived in hell ; for even in the Civil 
War and Indian Wars, my business was to kiU peo- 
ple. Oh, how I hate that life now, and oh, how I 
do wish it had never been. As I look backward 
over fifty years the moans of the stranger, the 
muffled cry of some poor girl come ringing back 
from hell as those demons of the past, the murder- 
ers, thiefs and robbers would throttle their victims 
and hurl them through trap-doors into the sewer. 
Later some of these floaters or bodies would be 
found drifting out with the settling of the tide that 
carried off all waste and refuse from the dumps, 
along the East River, ocean bound. It was here 
that I knew Jerry McCauley as a young fellow. He 
was a frequenter of these dens that dispensed vile 


The Speech of George Andrews 149 

whiskey in front, while in the rear was an elevated 
twenty- foot roped square for prize-fighting. Nightly 
these places would be packed to pull off a bare 
knuckle fight. The audiences were made up chiefly 
of thieves, murderers, and pimps who all stood in 
to share the spoils of their decoys, the vilest of 
women from the Five Points to lure their victims 
away to death. Police protection there was noth- 
ing in those days, for a single policeman would al- 
ways fall in for a slugging. So two would go to- 
gether, but keep shady for fear of a mauling. 
Conditions existing in politics were chiefly the cause 
of the life in the Five Points, and that great thor- 
oughfare of sin and crime that led into it — the 
Bowery. Here the neglected, wayward boys and 
young men of the homes would drift and stray. 
Many would be found dead later on and the papers 
would call it suicide. It would go at that. But 
the decoys, those horrible women, could tell you 
that the fellows sitting around in soft hats pulled 
over their eyes had fixed them and dropped them 
through the trap into the sewer. 

“ I remember one Saturday night, a fine looking 
young man was brought into one of the worst 
dives. He was one of the most handsome fellows 
I ever saw. He evidently came from a home of 
wealth. But not knowing the world, he was out 
for a good time when he fell in with one of the 
decoys, one of those angels of hell. As he walked 
arm in arm with that vile woman, all the fellows 
smiled and looked at each other. He was very 


150 The Mastery of* Love 

handsomely dressed ; so was she, and also beautiful. 
They looked really as if they might be man and 
wife from all outward appearances. But oh, the 
difference ! He passed on in with that terrible 
woman. An hour or more after, I saw the same 
young man. Now he was in a stupor and unable 
even to walk. Two men had hold of him. They 
took off his rings and watch and robbed his pockets, 
and then pitched him head foremost down through 
a trap-door. In a few days the papers were full 
of talk about a lost young man. I cried the papers 
on the street, though I knew whom they were 
talking about. But I too was a boy with the 
gang and felt helpless. But oh, how horrible it all 
seems to me now! It may be the father and 
mother of that boy are living still and have been 
wondering all these years what became of their 
darling child. I could have told them then, but it 
would have meant death to me and I had no con- 
science then. All of that horrible past I thought 
of that night as I sat in the hotel room. 

“Later I saw myself as a soldier in the Civil 
War ; as a regular soldier where I had been doing 
picket duty and fighting along the Mississippi Kiver. 
Later I was stationed in Oregon and California. 
I was in the Piute and Modoc Indian Wars. It 
was here I took up the study of the Indians, that 
is, their war tactics ; and I became acquainted with 
all their signals, such as the smoke signals, the dis- 
appearing bush, blazed bark of trees and their tac- 
tics in the open. Owing to my general knowledge 


The Speech of George Andrews i^i 

of the Indian tactics I became scout for General 
Wheaten, General Canby and General Gillam. 
Kow it was my duty to locate the stronghold of the 
Indian in warfare. To do this I would travel in 
the night-time ; for in the daytime the Indian can 
look farther with the naked eye than we can 
with the best field-glasses. From high positions 
they would look miles away into our camps and 
see everything going on there ; scouting parties 
leaving, wagon trains coming in from the opposite 
direction, and would get down and ambush the 
scouting party, shoot the escort and run off with the 
wagons. 

“ I can look back over those years and see my- 
self sitting alongside of running streams and lis- 
tening to the music of the sweet murmuring waters, 
or plucking wild flowers away in some place of 
safety. I could talk to those flowers. Each flower 
had its own individual life. The formation of a 
tree or bush, the singing of the birds and the shin- 
ing stars above were things I loved. 

“But nature showed me that aU these things 
perished. As I looked into the animal life I saw 
them reproduce their kind and die. The vegetable 
kingdom was likewise ever dying. I saw them 
multiply their species and pass away. Even the 
mineral kingdom perished. While I sat there my 
mind was taken back into the great Andes Moun- 
tains of South America. There for a thousand 
miles along the coast after you leave the equator 
stands this wonderful range of mountains. You 


152 The Mastery of Love 

can see its first formation as you see it from the 
steamer giving away towards the Pacific and the 
elements of the Pacific hurling it up and back on 
the lower pampas. There a new element that lives 
only on the pampas will take this material, sift 
and bleach and refine it to the consistency of flour 
and then hurl it across the pampas twenty miles 
beyond to the next elevation. In all this I beheld 
death, the elements of the Pacific removing the 
great Andes Mountains inland. Everywhere I 
looked I saw death ! death ! death ! That was my 
condition the night I went through the doorway 
of the mission. I could not point to a single thing 
that lived in the whole wide world. Everything 
died! And I stood alone. Oh, the unutterable 
loneliness of that night. 

“ Going through the doorway of the mission, I 
had a thing of life offered in the text — everlasting 
life, and how to attain to it. Why, the struggle 
went on in that room till about two o’clock in the 
morning. At that hour it appeared that I had 
come to the end of all things ; for kneeling at my 
bedside this was the prayer I offered. I cried : 
‘ Oh, God, snuff out this life, take it from me, but 
in its place give me the greater, the fuller life with 
Thee — everlasting life.’ Now the Lord knew I 
meant every word of that prayer, that it was the 
sincere cry of a struggling soul that wanted to 
know Him. And as I made the prayer still kneel- 
ing at the bedside, my whole being yearning to 
know God and to gain everlasting life, suddenly a 


The Speech of George Andrews 153 

new wonderful peace and joy was breathed into 
me. As I arose to my feet in my utter astonish- 
ment and stood for a moment, my eyes went heaven- 
ward, and it appeared in that instant as if the 
curtain of heaven was rolled away in my case, and 
I knew my God, my Father, my Creator face to 
face, and cried : ‘ I’ve got it ! ’ my hands going 
spontaneously into the air as I cried : ‘ I’ve got it ! ’ 

“ Oh, the joy that flooded my being from that 
moment. For over an hour I thought the Lord 
was really going to take me at my word and take 
me home, for the joy that fllled my soul in that 
room. It was something wonderful. I laid down 
on the bed about four o’clock and went to sleep. 

“ When I awoke it was about nine o’clock in the 
morning. I started for the dining-room for break- 
fast. As I approached the dining-room door, big 
Jim, the head waiter, stood at the door, a great big 
handsome fellow. I used to think a great deal of 
Jim, jolly him and tip him occasionally. But going 
up to him this morning I said, ‘ Jim, I’ve got everlast- 
ing life this morning.’ He said, ‘ What, sir ? ’ ‘ I’ve 
got everlasting life this morning,’ and quoted the 
text to him and told him how I got it, and said : 
‘ Jim, it’s the only thing that lives in this world. 
The Lord has made a way of escape from this 
world of death to the whosoever believeth on the 
Son of God should not perish but have everlasting 
life.’ And I said, ‘ Jim, you have your part to do 
in order to complete this great gift from God in 
your own soul. For the Lord’s part is all com- 


154 The Mastery of Love 

plete in the death of His Son, Jesus Christ. Jim, 
if you need salvation you must want it more than 
you want any gift that this world can give you, 
and iu that spirit come before God and His Holy 
Spirit will witness with your sincere cry that you 
are His child, that you are born again.’ I con- 
tinued to plead with him that he should do his 
part, as he had a part in this great plan of redemp- 
tion from sin, which the Lord alone had instituted 
for the salvation of man unto Himself through 
Jesus Christ. 

“ Leaving Jim I went into the dining-room to the 
table that I usually sat at. Two men came to wait 
on me. I began to tell them what I had and how 
I got it. Leaving the dining-room around ten 
o’clock I returned to my room — that hallowed place 
to me. I lay down again on the bed. As I had 
not rested the previous night, I fell asleep. When 
I awoke it was dark. I had slept all that day. 

“Just about the time I awoke I heard music. 
There was a band coming down the street. I rec- 
ognized the Salvation Army band by the big drum. 
Jumping to my feet and getting myself in order, I 
ran down into the street, and went to the corner 
where they held their meeting. Getting out before 
the people assembled, I began to tell them that 
every one assembled had his part to do in order to 
complete this great gift from God in his own soul ; 
for God was waiting at that moment for the sin- 
cere cry from any one of them to give them the 
witness of His Holy Spirit, to assure such a seeker 


The Speech of George Andrews 155 

that he was His child, born again into the life ever- 
lasting through Jesus Christ. 

“ Next morning I stood in my room with a new 
creation, a new being, a new life in Jesus Christ, a 
child of God. I had considerable money from my 
mining trip, but what to do in the new life I did 
not know. Finally getting on my knees before 
God I asked Him what I should do. While I was 
praying He showed me what I should do. It came 
to me from heaven — ‘ South America ; go to South 
America.’ I knew much of South America in those 
days, having made five trips into the continent as a 
placer gold miner. I had travelled the Andes 
Mountains from Ecuador to the extreme southern 
end to the Straits of Magellan. So getting to my 
feet I began my preparations to return. Going 
down to pier fifty-seven to find out when the 
steamer started for the Isthmus of Panama, I found 
it went out next day. Then going into a depart- 
ment store I made purchases of articles I should 
need on the trip. I had them all packed up and 
sent down to the wharf. Next day I was aboard 
that steamer on my way to South America by way 
of the Isthmus of Panama, under the leadings of 
the Almighty. 

“ Peaching Colon, on the Atlantic side, I went 
across the Isthmus on the Panama Pailroad to 
Panama. There I tarried five days for the Chilian 
steamer that comes up from Valparaiso, Chili, every 
ten days. On its return trip it went down along 
Ecuador and Peru. I got off at a place called Hoi- 


156 The Mastery of Love 

lendo on the coast and then journeyed up through 
the Andes Mountains to the city of La Paz in Bo- 
livia. 

“ Now I call the city of La Paz the jumping-off 
place of Spanish civilization, for no other large city 
extends so far inland. All the civilization is along 
the coast in these several republics and all that civi- 
lization is Spanish with the mixture of Indian. 
Formerly there lived along the coast Indian tribes 
who are now extinct under the Spanish conquest 
and occupancy, which extends along the coast 
4,000 miles. The Spaniards by living with these 
tribes gave birth to a new people, who are a cross- 
breed between the worst civilization and the best 
barbarism. But the names of the countries are 
taken from the original tribes. For instance Chili 
takes its name from the Chilian Indians. Peru gets 
its name from the Peruvians. But these tribes no 
longer exist. 

“ The civilized Indian of the continent from the 
Pacific side is the Incas of the Andes. They are a 
very large numerous tribe ranging the mountains 
southward for hundreds of miles with offshoots of 
six other tribes under different names. On the 
eastern slopes of the mountains particularly you will 
find the Incas in tribes living in a semi-savage 
state. I began missionary work with the Incas, 
but in a short while found I could do but very little 
with these people. For being in contact with 
Spanish civilization they are brutalized to-day. 
After an Indian is brutalized and degraded by Ko- 


The Speech of George Andrews 157 

man Catholicism and whiskey then he needs no 
edifice to worship in, for the mere animal supersti- 
tion finds in image worship an all-sulRcient comfort. 
There they are in their blighted state of ignorance 
brought about by exploiters of their manhood, vir- 
tue, health and country. So between superstition 
and this horrible rum curse, I asked the Lord to 
take me away from the influence of the Spaniard. 

“ Then I was led away into the wilderness. God’s 
will seemed clear to me. Securing a strong young 
horse I rode away from La Paz, going down the 
Beni Kiver on trail for about 325 miles. At that 
place I left the river before it flowed into the Ma- 
deira. Travelling a course of north by east I made 
a long journey of not less than 400 miles. There I 
struck into the outskirts of the Amazon Basin. 
Swimming rivers and tributaries I journeyed on 
and on till I came to a great jungle of rubber. 
Going around the north of this jungle and up the 
eastern side I came on the first tribe of Indians who 
had never seen the Spaniard. 

“They had their own language and customs. 
Here I began living with these people. I stayed 
in this village about three weeks. Ten miles 
further south I came on another tribe. All along 
the eastern side of this rubber jungle, which ex- 
tends probably 250 miles south, were many villages, 
tribe after tribe living in their own way, free from 
any drink that would intoxicate, living primitive 
lives, dependent for food on the animal life and the 
birds and the wild nuts and fruits that grow every- 


158 The Mastery of Love 

where. The seasons are regular and the rainfall is 
nearly even the year round. The temperature is 
about 90° during the day. The closer towards the 
Amazon the hotter it is. Journeying south from 
this great river and its lowlands, you come into a 
delightful climate. Living along the eastern side 
of this impenetrable jungle, I was deeply impressed 
with the various noises, notes of birds and animals 
which came to me from the hidden depths beyond. 
The variation of this melody of deep heavy sounds 
with the sharp, shrill piercing cries of something un- 
earthly, unknown, set me to thinking as to what 
animals or creatures might be inhabiting that un- 
known vast coimtry of rubber. I could not go be- 
yond the rim or edge where tribes and villages of 
wild men were living. I often wondered and won- 
dered what could be beyond in those impenetrable 
depths. 

“During the Spanish War I have repeatedly 
been in the jungles in Cuba, in Santiago and Puerto 
Principe Provinces. I lived in the jungle weeks at 
a time, but there is no animal life there to compare 
with that of the rubber jungle. During the day 
flocks of devil birds, a few stray parrots, mocking- 
birds, and the soaring of the buzzard make up the 
life of a Cuban jungle, while at night an occasional 
cry of an owl is all there is to break the stillness. 
But you could take all the jungles of Cuba and 
place them in the heart of this great jungle of the 
continent and lose them all, so great is the vast 
jungle of rubber. As month after month went by 


The Speech of George Andrews 159 

I travelled southward along this great creation, liv- 
ing a few weeks in each village, and burning with 
a great desire if possible to enter that jungle. 

“ So one morning leaving a village where I had 
stayed for two weeks, I found about two miles be- 
yond quite a large stream coming out of the jungle. 
It was likely sixty yards wide. How quiet it ap- 
peared with hardly any perceptible flow. Instantly 
I saw how I could enter the jungle. So riding 
back to the village I began killing a few animals, 
jerked or dried this meat in order to live on it as I 
went up the stream. I took several Indians over 
to the stream where we selected four logs and se- 
cured them fast with wild vines. Getting the raft 
into the water I had the Indians bring me armfuls 
of wild grass, with which I plugged the crevices of 
the raft very tight and secure in order to have a 
level place to lie down. Then I got my arms and 
provisions aboard, and procuring a long pliable 
pole I began shoving the raft up the waterway. 

“For three weeks I kept going up-stream. I 
met with hard places sometimes where the trees 
had fallen on either side of the stream and inter- 
locking in a dense mass of growth. At these places 
I used the machete to cut a way through. I had 
been going this way till the end of the second 
week, when I came on the alligators lying on either 
side of the stream. As I advanced daily the alli- 
gators increased in numbers until one afternoon, 
about two hours before dusk, the stream widened 
out into a sort of lake. Standing up on the raft I 


i6o The Mastery of Love 

began surveying this lake. The one thing that im- 
pressed me most was the number of alligators. In 
every direction their heads were above water. Ap- 
parently hundreds were lying around the edges 
where the waters were shallow and on the banks 
they were crawling over one another. For some 
time I stood there on the raft looking beyond and 
around. From depths impenetrable came every 
conceivable strange noise which seemed to give 
vent to a melody of rejoicing, as the birds took 
to their roosting places to make way for the great 
lizards that crawl by night. Later the great ani- 
mals and the night birds made the jungle hideous 
with their howls and cries. I lay down on the 
raft and began to eat some of the jerked meat, with 
my head resting on the grass pillow, occasionally 
drinking water from the stream by leaning over to 
the outer log and lapping the water to my mouth 
with my hand. 

“ Once while drinking this way I felt the raft 
shake and sink on the opposite side. Turning 
quickly I encountered an enormous alligator’s head 
right over me. Quick as a flash I drew my 
machete and as I looked into his little eyes I 
struck him along the jaw with the broadside, hop- 
ing he would leave. Hot so, for he began climb- 
ing up on the raft. So bracing myself I made a 
sweeping cut across the mouth, cutting a great 
gash. He then rolled off into the water, striking 
the raft with his tail and raising it out of the water, 
so hard and powerful was the blow. He then be- 


The Speech of George Andrews i6i 

gan to bleed from the blow I gave him. The blood 
attracted the other alligators, so that they came 
around by hundreds and seemed to be as thick as 
fish. Holding to the pillow of grass to steady my- 
self I waited, machete in hand, to chop the first 
one who would make an effort to climb up on the 
raft. There I sat far into the night, while the alli- 
gators were swimming around. For hours thus I 
had to wait, and it was only towards morning that 
I attempted to lie down, but not to sleep. 

“ When the new day came I determined not to 
venture within, for likely it would mean the de- 
struction of both the raft and myself. So I con- 
cluded to return at once. On the way back the 
bird life through the day was remarkable and very 
interesting. I could see them only as they fiew 
over me. When darkness came on I would take 
up a position for the night. Then early in the 
evening the wild animal life would begin to move 
out and soon the jungle would be alive with their 
cries. Often I could hear a large animal coming 
towards the stream, nearer and nearer. Then he 
would plunge in, swim to the opposite side, shake 
himself and run away into the jungle. The con- 
fusion of sounds would continue till early morning 
about two o’clock, when every sound would cease. 
This great impenetrable mystery of creation would 
become deathly still. The unutterable stillness of 
the jungle was the most awful thing I ever expe- 
rienced. It was so oppressive that I longed to hear 
again the noises which would begin at daybreak. 


i 62 The Mastery of Love 

“ After leaving the jungle and securing my horse 
at the village I rode towards north by east about 
300 miles. There I came on a great forest of ma- 
hogany. I travelled along the western side of the 
forest probably for 150 miles. Along its entire 
length Indians were living in villages, many living 
in each of the villages. I spent two or three weeks 
in each village to learn their way and customs and 
to study their form of worship. Most of them 
worshipped the forest. They would select a tree 
for their worship, placard it with symbols and 
characters, bring their offerings of trinkets of wild 
seeds, place them around the base of the tree, set 
them afire and then forming a circle around the 
tree and clasping hands begin a wild, mad dance. 
An outer circle would stand waiting to take the 
place of any who might fall out exhausted. So 
that in this manner all would have a place in this 
great dance, which would go on into the night. 
After their weird performance at worship I would 
try to convey to them the meaning of God by 
means of the Indian sign language and try to 
abolish the worship and other abominable customs 
that exist in many of the tribes. 

“ Thus working and living in villages innumer- 
able I journeyed on as the months and years rolled 
by. Somehow it became a habit with me to live 
only two or three weeks in each village. I wanted 
to meet all the tribes. In order to accomplish this 
I kept on the move. So going on till the forest of 
mahogany was traversed and then changing my 


The Speech of George Andrews 163 

route somewhat westward by following up the 
course of a feeder or small stream I came on the 
Rock Indians — two tribes. They lived in the open. 
The two tribes were evidently one originally, but 
had some time divided, each having its own chief. 
There I abode three weeks. Their dwellings were 
in the rocks, which had been scooped out of the 
cliffs and crevices. Under the shadows of these 
rock formations these tribesmen had lived for gen- 
erations. 

“ While I was here with these people, the tribes- 
men began to tell me of tribes of head-hunters liv- 
ing at a great distance beyond. Every day they 
would talk about these people Living in the dis- 
tance. Becoming interested as I daily listened to 
their reports about these people I determined one 
afternoon that in the morning I would start out to 
find them. 

“ Going to some of the tribesmen I asked them 
what were their implements of war. They told me 
that they blew poisoned arrows through blowpipes. 
Then I asked them how far they could blow a 
poisoned arrow. Five or six of them marked the 
range on the ground. So having the range of their 
arrows, I went to rest. When morning came I went 
to some of the same tribesmen and asked them to 
go along with me to find the head-hunters. Not 
one of them could I get to move. Then I found 
they had a superstitious dread of these people be- 
yond. In many cases they had found the bodies of 
their companions as they had ventured into that 


164 The Mastery of Love 

country lying headless. The head-hunters had am- 
bushed them, thrown poisoned arrows into them 
and had taken their heads back to their village. 
[N^ot one could I get to go with me. It just took 
me about five minutes to make up my mind what I 
should do, and that was to leave everything I had 
— horse and all — behind with the Kock men and to 
start out on foot to try to find those people. 

“ When I started out I had my Winchester car- 
bine, revolver, hunting knife, machete in a scab- 
bard down my side, and some matches in a steel 
box. As I advanced into their country I knew from 
elevated positions they could see me and would 
likely get down and try to ambush me by blowing 
poisoned arrows into me. But I knew they could 
not do that, for it has been the study of my life for 
years for me to discover the ambush places of the 
Indians. So I did not feel any concern about that. 
When I was hungry I would kill parrots, clean 
them, put a stick through them, make a fire, toast 
them and in this way have my meal with the wild 
fruits that grow everywhere. When I came to a 
place where I thought I had made twenty-five 
miles, I would select a position to lie down. The 
formations of the country would give me such a 
place. 

“ Now when I lay down for the night nothing 
could approach me from any direction within fifty 
yards without waking me. When I am aroused I 
lie perfectly still to find out what woke me. It 
will always show itself in about ten minutes. I 


The Speech of George Andrews 165 

have never been deceived in this once in all my 
life. It has been acquired by a life of discipline in 
the open. My chief enemy was the puma. Quite 
often in riding along have I come on eight or ten 
of these animals just as ferocious and large as the 
tigers of Africa. On first seeing these droves, the 
horse would attempt to run away, but with a little 
petting and soothing talk, I could get him to face 
them. But the poor fellow, as he thus stood, he 
would tremble with fear. While holding him in 
position I would look on and study the animals. 
They come together thus, and then after some time 
as they begin to get hungry one by one they would 
leave. And so on the drove would disappear. ITot 
one would come in my direction. They all had 
seen us, but none of them hungry enough to make 
an attack. 

“ Just so is it on seeing the boa, the huge snake. 
Always when hungry he is on the limbs of trees 
waiting and on the alert for prey. Usually they 
select a tree skirting the forest close to open land 
where animals feed. There they wait. Animals 
living in the open usually seek the shade of the 
forest at midday. Let one come close to the tree 
the serpent is on him instantly. He will whip his 
forty feet of body like a flash around the animal, 
and if you could stand close you would hear the 
bones of the animal crack from the awful pressure 
applied by the serpent, during the instant it takes 
him to accomplish his work. 

“ How I was sure the Indians in the village knew 


i66 The Mastery of Love 

where I was every day’s journey. The Indians on 
the elevations had communicated back to the vil- 
lage that some one was coming towards them. But 
they seemed to keep away from me. And sure 
enough as I was coming through a wooded section 
into a great open place beyond, I could see in the 
distance the village. Behind it were trees that 
grew by a feeder of a river or large stream. There 
out in the open stood six or seven hundred of the 
tribesmen waiting for me. For a moment standing 
still I began looking at them. As they made no 
movement to come to me, I went towards them. 
On drawing close I saw for the first time that a 
great many of them had spears. Then I stood still 
away from the range of the spear ; for they can 
throw a spear three times further than they can 
shoot a poisoned arrow. We stood thus for a while 
looking at each other. Then I began to wonder 
how I could get close enough to talk in the Indian 
sign language. It came about this way. 

“ They have tame monkeys that live in the vil- 
lages, scores of them that are born in the village, 
raised with the children. I^ow these tame monkeys 
will not consort or have anything to do with the 
wild monkeys of the forest. 

“ As we stood looking at each other, there came 
between us five or six tame monkeys. I saw my 
opportunity and quick to take a chance I shot one 
of them. At the crack of the rifle the Indians all 
broke and ran for the village, leaving the dead 
monkey. When the Indians broke and ran I 


The Speech of George Andrews 167 

started for the dead monkey, and picking him up I 
held him in the air with my rifle and walked 
towards them. Quite a number of the Indians 
stopped still to look at me as I held the monkey in 
my left hand. Then turning the monkey around I 
began to point to the wound in the monkey. Then 
as I advanced, throwing the stock of the rifle, I 
pointed to the hole in the gun. Then taking a 
cartridge from my belt and raising it in my right 
hand, both hands up now and advancing I put the 
cartridge down to the hole in the gun. As I was 
close enough now to look into their eyes, I saw they 
got the idea that the little cartridge going through 
the hole in the gun had killed the monkey. 

“ Now you always have to take the lead idea on 
a savage ; never let him get the lead. If so they 
likely will begin throwing spears. I had the lead 
from the very first and so I walked right into them, 
and not one of them attempted to throw a spear or 
shoot a poisoned arrow. Getting among them I 
began to talk in the Indian sign language. Then 
as we had not reached the village yet I pointed 
towards it and started and they all followed. On 
reaching the village they brought me food to eat 
— fish speared in the feeders of the tributary, cooked 
on hot stones. They also brought monkey meat. 
They threw their spears through a certain species 
of the wild monkey, pulled off the pelts and cooked 
them on hot stones. A great many brought fruit. 
There was an abundance to eat. Nature has made 
ample provision by providing an abundance of 


i68 The Mastery of Love 

animal life and the dozen or so of wild fruits. They 
dry the fruit by hanging up bunches strung to- 
gether and drying it like you would jerked meat. 
They never cultivate a thing. I^’o effort is made 
to till the soil, for they know nothing about it and 
they don’t have to learn. All their needs are 
bountifully supplied in the fruits and animal life. 

“ I lived with these people for three months. 
The first two weeks I went among them to find out 
just what they worshipped. Visiting their shacks 
and observing their daily lives in the open, I came 
to the conclusion at the close of two weeks that 
they were a people without any worship whatever. 
Even in their burial rites which is very simple there 
is no sign of worship. An old tribesman died at 
this time, and I went out with the party to observe 
the burial ceremony. We travelled likely three 
miles from the village, till we came on some mud 
shacks. I stood at the door while they were plac- 
ing the body down. They then opened the door 
and carried the body inside. I also entered and 
saw a circle of bodies sitting mummified or dried 
from the atmosphere. I was surprised that they 
had no odor about them at all. Where the circle 
ended they brought the body of the tribesman and 
sat him up alongside the last one. Then all went 
out the door, which was soon closed with a little 
mud which was made up and thrown against the 
door in places where it was needed to keep out the 
animal life. There was no sign of worship or of 
religious feeling so far as I could detect. Their 


The Speech of George Andrews 169 

interest in mere life is apparently their nearest 
approach to worship. They are really a wonderful 
people in their imitation of the animal, bird, and 
insect life around them. This seems to be a sort of 
substitute for worship. 

“We went out one day with some dozen of nude 
tribesmen to see the great drove of monkeys as 
they passed on to their feeding ground. We took 
up a good position in the forest and then waited. 
Finally they came. The head of the drove instantly 
halted to a standstill. Then seeing me wearing a 
hat and clothes and having arms their curiosity was 
aroused, and they were deeply concerned about me. 
Then the whole drove stopped about me and began 
to set up an awful clatter. Instantly the Indians 
began to go through all sorts of gestures accom- 
panied by sounds of speech. Then the monkeys 
would answer back in the same sort of way. Pres- 
ently they began to move in a half circle from us. 
Then the whole drove passed on by us, all looking 
towards us chattering and making the woods alive 
with their sounds, which continued for an hour as if 
a storm was passing, so numerous were the twigs and 
leaves that fell from the trees to the ground. 
Thinking they had gone on to the feeding grounds, 
I asked the Indians through signs whether they 
had. They explained that the monkeys would be 
back. Sure enough they soon struck us from an- 
other quarter and began circling around us ; so that 
from the place we stood, I could look up into the 
tree tops from every direction and see nothing but 


lyo The Mastery of Love 

monkey life. The species would hold together 
intact like a regiment of soldiers, moving and 
keeping their company formations. In this great 
throng were likely nine or ten species or varieties 
of life. 

“ Again 1 have seen the Indian lie on his stomach 
on the ground in the open, close up to the grass and 
call an insect out of the grass in the notes of the 
insect. Other savages would stand around the one 
lying thus, to see how long he could hold the insect 
in the open. This is their pastime, taking turns at 
the game. The one l 3 dng down begins to chipper, 
then the insect comes out into the open. They all 
watch him eagerly as he takes a few turns around 
and starts for the grass. Then the Indian calls 
him back. The others laugh and play around. The 
struggle goes on till finally the insect gets back. 
Then getting to his feet they compare the time each 
held the insect in the open. This game goes on for 
hours at a time, showing that there is more in the 
instinct of the animal life than the mere notes of the 
insect and animal. 

These Indians will also imitate the birds per- 
fectly. They warble in the notes of the birds so true 
that the birds will answer back from the tree tops. 

“ Seeing this wonderful imitation in nature life, 
which is a sort of substitute for worship, I won- 
dered what I could do for them. Going to God 
on my knees, I asked the Lord what I should do. 
It came to me to teach them the alphabet of the 
English language. 


The Speech of George Andrews 171 

“ iNTow they had a large place in the village as 
level as a floor, tramped over by naked feet for 
years. I had it cleaned away nicely and then be- 
gan to write the letters of the alphabet on the 
ground. I flrst wrote from A to G, so many let- 
ters at a time. There were hundreds of the tribe 
looking on as I cut these letters into the ground 
with a stick. After completing so many letters at 
a time from A to G, and getting them all back of 
me, I told them to repeat just what I said. Point- 
ing to the letter A I cried ‘ A.’ Instantly motion- 
ing to them, a number said ‘A.’ But wanting 
them all to repeat it and make a good start I 
pointed again to the letter A and cried ‘ A ! ’ with 
a very effective gesture towards them all. Then 
they cried out ‘ A.’ Having no further trouble in 
getting them to repeat then motioning to them and 
pointing to the letter B they all cried ‘ B.’ Then 
C and they cried ‘ C.’ Then D and they cried 
‘ D ’ ; and so on to the end of the alphabet. 

“ It was wonderful to see how correctly they pro- 
nounced. How clearly their imitation by sound 
was. It struck me that those people could be 
taught quickly to read. For in two weeks all 
the tribe had the letters so perfectly that I could 
not puzzle them on a letter anywhere. I would 
erase all these letters from the ground and then 
mark a solitary letter. They would all cry it out. 
Another letter, they would cry that ; then another 
and so on till I saw I could not puzzle them. Then 
I came to the place when I wondered how I could 


172 The Mastery of Love 

put these letters into words, so they could get the 
meaning of the words. I failed to see how I could 
do this. But I knew the Lord could show me. So 
wishing to be alone I walked out towards the forest 
to be alone in prayer. 

“ But many hundreds of the Indians followed 
after me. Seeing that it was impossible to be 
alone, I came back to the open place where they 
had learned their letters and there I kneeled down 
and prayed, while hundreds circled around. The 
cry of my heart to the Lord was that He would 
show me how I could put the letters into words. 
But the Lord does not answer our prayer the way 
we want sometimes. We plan the work according 
to our ideas how it should be done, but in our ea- 
gerness to plan and fulfill we may miss the right 
way. But if we are seeking His glory. He in- 
stantly straightens out our doing and illumines our 
hearts by the Holy Spirit, provided only that we 
are in divine order and are meeting the conditions 
so the Holy Spirit can live and work in us and 
through us. I found out, being alone with God 
for six years, that obedience is the supreme word 
in the Christian life. The Spirit of God within 
will always answer the cry of the obedient heart. 
We should have the closest relationship with God 
as our Father, and being His children we should 
have the habit of instant and absolute obedience. 

“ Holding on to the Lord in prayer, it came to 
me while on my knees to leave them. Getting to 
my feet, and as the circle grew larger from me. 


The Speech of George Andrews 173 

looking into their smiling faces, I told them that in 
the morning I would go away and leave them. 
After a moment or two when they fully under- 
stood what I meant then for the first time I saw 
the smile leave their faces. Then in a little while 
the cry of ‘ wahi ’ began to be heard. It was taken 
up by the whole village. The cry continued for 
likely an hour. Then they began to hitch the let- 
ters of the alphabet to the cry of ‘wahi,’ which 
means chief. Each of them had all the letters, but 
each one had selected one of the letters as his very 
own. ■ He liked the sound of that letter better than 
any other. So every time he would cry ‘ wahi ’ he 
would hitch that letter on to it thus — ‘wahi L,’ 
‘ wahi O,’ ‘ wahi W,’ and so on. There was no 
meaning in any of the letters as yet. It was the 
only thing that had come into their lives from the 
outside. This cry went on into the night. I got 
so tired I crawled into my shack to rest, for I really 
meant to go away. 

“ When morning came, after eating, I left the 
village with 200 of the tribesmen to make twenty- 
five miles a day. Travelling all day we finally made 
camp about an hour before dusk. I took a seat 
under a tree, while nearly all the tribesmen started 
out to gather wild fruit to eat, leaving likely a dozen 
lying about me on the ground. Presently on glanc- 
ing towards a wooded place we had passed through, I 
saw women and children coming trooping towards 
us, children ten and twelve years old. By the time 
it got dark it seemed to me as if 1,500 women and 


174 The Mastery of Love 

children had come to camp. They had travelled all 
day, a distance of twenty-five miles from the village. 
As these beautiful people gathered around us, I 
began to wonder what it all meant, and whether I 
had really got God’s message correct back in the 
village that I should leave these people. But in- 
stantly looking up to heaven, the prayer on my 
heart was, ‘ If it is Thy will, O God, that I should 
return. Thy wiU be done ! ’ I wanted to pray 
over this, but could not go to prayer until I got 
them all asleep. 

“That night when they saw me lie down at 
about ten o’clock, they all lay down. It was 
about eleven o’clock when sitting up and glancing 
over camp, I found the camp asleep. Then crawling 
out some distance under some trees, I got on my 
knees before God to ask Him all about it, whether 
I should return to the village with these people. 
Everything above seemed dark that night. So 
tired and weary was my body that I would shift 
my position from my knees. Sitting, to rest myself, 
so used up was my condition, I fell asleep in a little 
while. In this position, after twelve o’clock, I 
found I had fallen asleep. Knowing it, for the 
relief that came, the thought occurred that I had 
done something terrible — that I should fall asleep 
in the presence of God. Instantly I was on my 
knees before God and asked His forgiveness, and 
I knew He had forgiven me by the joy that came 
into my heart. Then holding on to the Lord 
further for my dealings with this people it came 


The Speech of George Andrews 175 

that I should return. After further prayer, and 
nothing further coming I went to sleep. When I 
awoke I found they had been out and brought in 
fruit. 

“ It was while eating that my coming back out- 
lined itself that I should bring back object lesson 
books with the Gospel of St. John. After eating I 
told them all to go back to the village, that I surely 
would return. They all obeyed, only a few that 
wanted to come. I had the tribesmen drive them 
back. Then resuming our journey we travelled on 
and on tiU we came within thirty miles of the next 
tribe. Being enemies of each other they could not 
come any farther. Here I parted with the last of 
the tribe, and as far as they could see me in the 
distance they took up the cry of ‘ wahi.’ They 
kept this up till away in the distance it grew so 
faint, that standing still for a moment or two, so 
they could get a last look at me, the faint cry of 
wahi came to me like echoes from the forests. 
Leaving them I travelled into the Bock Indian 
tribes where my horse was. 

“ After resting up here for two days I got on my 
horse and bade the Bock men good-bye and God’s 
blessing and faced homeward towards the Andes 
Mountains — 1,200 miles beyond. That was a long 
trip — something over four months. My horse had 
lost his nerve and had grown old. The wild animal 
life had taken all his nerve. He was a young horse 
coming in. How he was an old decrepit animal 
with hardly strength to carry me. So that days I 


176 The Mastery of Love 

would walk ahead, and as he followed on close be- 
hind how faithful were his efforts as day by day for 
weeks he held on. How many times in talking to 
him, had I told him that I would stand by him to 
the last, and not leave his carcass to be devoured by 
the animals. I almost felt we were kin. So with 
patience and gentleness and words of encourage- 
ment together we swam streams, passed through 
tribes of savages, finally reaching the Andes. Then 
the long ascent of the mountains, that taxed all his 
strength. 

“ At last we reached La Paz. Turning him over 
to a Spaniard who had other animals to care for 
I left him in his charge. I came on down to the 
coast to wait for a steamer to Hollendo. Get- 
ting aboard the steamer I journeyed to Callio, 
five days away, then steamed on to Guyacul in 
Ecuador, six days’ steaming away, reaching this 
place about ten in the morning. Then we steamed 
out for Panama, five days away. I was sitting 
alone up on the spar deck, looking out on a steamer 
all lighted up passing in the opposite direction, 
when I heard singing. As I listened I found it was 
in the English language. I tried to get the words 
in the body of the hymn, for it was a hymn, but 
could not till it came to the chorus. And this was 
what I heard clearly : ‘ I’m a child of a King, I’m 
a child of a King.’ Leaping from my seat to 
the deck for an instant thinking I had gone home, 
and as I was going up and in the angels above were 
singing that I was a child of the King. I began to 


The Speech of George Andrews 177 

trace the singing. It was a three-deck steamer. 
On going down on the berth deck I found on my 
own steamer black men singing these beautiful 
hymns. Going up to them and getting a book I 
sat up all that night singing, and I stayed with 
these men till we reached Panama. There I went 
over the workings of the canal along the strip to 
acquaint myself with the work. Then taking a 
Jamaica negro we explored the southern side of 
five miles and forty-seven in width to look at the 
soil for orange, banana and pineapple culture. 

“ I am here to get an outfit, and just as soon as 
my outfit is completed, I will make the same trip 
back with the books. At La Paz two mules will be 
secured for the trip, a pack animal and riding mule. 
We wiU have nine large streams, with probably 
twenty smaller ones on this 1,200 mile ride. In- 
dian tribes to pass through till we come to the 
tribes of the Kock Indians. I can see the head- 
hunters from elevated positions waiting and look- 
ing towards the Rock tribes for my entrance into 
their country. And when they see me coming they 
will flash the news back to the village that I am on 
the way. I see the whole village coming out to 
meet and greet me on the way likely fifty miles 
within. When we get to the village and I begin to 
distribute the books, the first piece of paper they 
have ever seen, and look on the objects they are 
familiar with, they will begin to put the letters into 
words and get the meaning of the words. Such 
a wonderful people are they that I see them read- 


178 The Mastery of Love 

ing in from five to six months in the English lan- 
guage. The Lord shows me the salvation of this 
tribe after they get the meaning of God and His 
Son Jesus Christ, after they come to the knowledge 
that God really has a way, His own divine plan of 
redemption for all who will go His way. I see 
them coming and becoming sons of the living God. 
They are remarkable people indeed, beautiful faces, 
Indian profile, light color, handsome forms, a little 
above the medium size, graceful and refined in 
manner, very cleanly in person, bathing in the trib- 
utary, never without the smile on all their faces. 
Surely the Lord has chosen this tribe to go out to 
all the other tribes as messengers of salvation and 
peace.” 


VIII 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 



yiii 


THE DISCOVEEY OF ANDEEWS' EECOED 

T he speech of Andrews made a profound 
impression. Five students volunteered to 
go back with him to open a mission to the 
uncivilized Indians in the heart of South America. 
Several business men became so vitally interested 
that they offered to provide the necessary money 
for the outfit in order that he might be enabled to 
return without delay to his mission. I explained 
that the importance of the proposed enterprise re- 
quired the most careful and thorough planning, and 
that as Mr. Andrews was a stranger to us we would 
have to work out the details of such an undertak- 
ing with him privately before any further steps 
could be taken. When the audience was dismissed 
he was completely encircled by the company, all 
vying with each other to show him the attention 
due a very hero. 

Having noticed McGregor sitting back in the au- 
dience listening with rapt attention to the speech, 
I was anxious to get his opinion of the man. So I 
had him go up to my study to talk the matter over. 
“ Sawney,” I asked, “ what do you think of that 
speech?” He began by saying: “Well, Mac, be- 
fore I answer that question, I want to know who 
181 


i 82 The Mastery of Love 

that man is ? What do you know about him ? ” 
When I explained that I knew absolutely nothing 
except what he told in his own speech, McGregor 
looked at me with questions shining out all over 
his face. He then remarked : “ The first thing I 
advise you to do is to investigate your man.” I 
saw instantly that he had been studying Andrews 
very closely, and so I pressed him for his estimate. 

He proceeded lawyer-like to analyze Andrews’ 
speech: “Well,” said McGregor, “lam quite as 
much interested in the man as in his message. It 
seems to me that in his biographical sketch there 
are at least two psychological impossibilities. In 
the first place I can hardly believe his account of 
his conversion. He claims that he had never seen 
a Bible, nor heard a sermon, nor associated at all 
with Christian people. That is, he knew absolutely 
nothing about the Gospel and the Christian fife up 
to the time he entered the door of the mission in 
the Bowery. He was there only a few minutes, 
and the only Gospel he heard was the text and the 
only part of it that impressed him deeply was the 
phrase ‘ everlasting life.’ 

“ How, that is not enough Gospel to produce 
such a marvellous conversion. Hot only that, but 
here is a man who did not so much as know the 
word ‘ mission,’ much less its content. But a few 
hours after he hears the term for the first time, he 
is converted in his room alone. Then without one 
word of instruction, but after a nap of a few hours 
he goes down to breakfast a fully developed mis- 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 183 

sionary who proceeds without the slightest hesita- 
tion to preach a sermonette in technical theological 
language to the first man he sees and a few hours 
later is engaged in street preaching with the Salva- 
tion Army. More than that, on the third day after 
conversion without interviewing any one whatever 
on the subject he starts for South America as a 
missionary, ^^ow that may have happened just 
that way ; I don’t say it did not. But I will say 
this ; if it really did take place as reported, then 
this experience is a psychological miracle, and more 
wonderful than the cure of the Gadarene demoniac 
from whom went a legion of evil spirits vile enough 
to set a whole herd of hogs crazy.” 

McGregor’s remarks were having quite a chilling 
effect on my enthusiasm, but his look of pity for 
my stupidity in not having seen all this put me on 
the defensive. So I asked : “ But don’t you feel 
that Andrews is a sincere man ? ” “ Well, I’ll grant 

you that a great deal of that speech has the ring of 
reality about it. He certainly lived through a 
large part of that story ; I can’t help but believe 
that quite a good deal of it is genuine narrative. 
On the other hand there are some notes in that 
speech that do not accord with my judgment. 

“Another questionable point is his leaving the 
regular army. He didn’t explain that, and I doubt 
if he can satisfactorily. With his physique, intel- 
ligence and temperament he ought to have made 
a fine soldier. He evidently liked that kind of a 
life. There must, therefore, be some good reason 


184 The Mastery of Love 

why he isn’t in the regular army now. I should 
like to have that cleared up. 

“ Then what about his gold mining ? It is in- 
conceivable to me that a man as shrewd and far- 
sighted as he evidently is would suddenly leave all 
his propensity for soldiering and mining and would 
actually turn away from civilization altogether, 
and leave the very gold-bearing region of the Andes 
with which he was so perfectly familiar and would 
strike off into an unexplored country without any 
previous plan whatever. 

“Taking for granted that Andrews went to 
South America at first in search of gold and that 
he became so interested in the natives along the 
Andes Mountains where alone he worked that at 
his conversion he suddenly became vitally concerned 
for their religious welfare, so much so that he was at 
once willing to abandon all his mining business in 
order to preach the Gospel to them, I still do not 
understand by what process of reasoning he could, 
after a few months of missionary effort with the 
civilized Indians, resolve to leave them as utterly 
hopeless, and acknowledging complete failure with 
them, should suddenly decide to undertake an 
evangelizing enterprise infinitely more difficult and 
uncertain — namely to plunge into an unexplored 
region as a missionary when he did not so much as 
know that a single human being lived in the terri- 
tory. Especially so since he knew nothing what- 
ever of missionary work and had no backing nor 
missionary equipment — not even a Bible.” 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 185 

McGregor paused and looked at me and smiled 
as much as to say: “I guess you are satisfied 
now ! ” I then asked him if he thought Andrews 
had never been into the heart of the continent. 
“ Yes, he undoubtedly went there,” said McGregor, 
“ but he certainly did not go with the missionary 
motive. We can be sure of that. Whatever he 
was doing in there, he surely was not a missionary. 

“ Now, under the circumstances, and with the 
evidence in hand,” continued McGregor, “ I can 
conceive of but three possible motives that would 
lead him into that country. In the first place, his 
whole life seems to have been possessed with a sort 
of roving, daredevil spirit. He was a homeless, 
fearless, gold-crazed prospector, and so probably 
went into that country in search of gold. 

“ Again, there may be some connection between 
his leaving the United States army and his ‘ so- 
called mission to the Indians.’ For all you know 
that man may be a criminal, a scapegallows, a de- 
serter from the army. That, I should say, would 
be a sufficient motive to drive him into almost any 
country. I don’t like the cut of his eye and the 
shape of his mouth. He smiles like a brutal man. 
His laugh is heartless. 

“ Now, if he did not go into the heart of Brazil in 
search of gold, nor to escape the law, then I still see 
only one other explanation for his action. Together 
with his conversion in New York as he claims, there 
may have been a mental cataclysm caused by ex- 
cessive dissipation or disease, which left him af- 


i86 The Mastery of Love 

flicted with some sort of permanent delnsionment. 
That is to say, he may be suffering from paranoia 
and his speech may be a fabrication spun out of 
the broken threads of a shattered memory, a re- 
morseful conscience and a poisoned imagination. 
You can choose either hypothesis you like,” re- 
marked McGregor ; “ I am unable to decide which 
is correct, or whether there is some truth in all 
three hypotheses. But there is one thing I am dead 
sure of, he is not what he claims to be — he is not a 
missionary to the uncivilized Indians of Brazil.” 

McGregor’s look and accent as he closed his 
speech were so emphatic and carried such convic- 
tion that I felt heartily sorry that I had been led to 
really have considerable confidence in this stranger 
and his message. McGregor was to me a mental 
diagnostician whose judgment was quite as worthy 
of confidence as the statement of an expert physi- 
cian at the bedside of his patient. Before McGregor 
left I asked him to help me institute a thorough 
investigation of Andrews. 

The next morning we had him come to my office 
where in the presence of my stenographer, who 
wrote down all that was said, we questioned him 
very closely. In reply to direct questions repeated 
several times, he claimed that he never had a home, 
that he never knew his father or mother, that he 
was never married, that he had never joined any 
church or lodge. Then we soon discovered that it 
was impossible to get any clue whatever as to his 
past record except the information given in his 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 187 

speech. He had no relatives, no friends, not even 
acquaintances whose names he would give. The 
only names he gave were names of dead men. 
McGregor said this was very suspicious. 

Our next effort was to consult the War Depart- 
ment at Washington. After writing four times we 
got this interesting information from the Adjutant- 
General’s ofB.ce : ‘‘ The records show that one 
George Andrews was enlisted October 23, 1871 ; 
was dishonorably discharged July 1, 1873, and was 
sentenced to confinement at hard labor for three 
years at Alcatraz Island, California, per sentence of 
general court-martial, while serving as a private in 
Troop H, First Cavalry. He escaped from confine- 
ment May 22, 1874, at Alcatraz Island, California, 
while serving sentence, and so far as this depart- 
ment is advised he is now a fugitive from justice.” 

From other sources we learned that he had 
killed six men, and that when he escaped from Al- 
catraz Island he knocked two guards down with 
their own guns and then swam clear across the 
channel to the mainland, which has always been 
considered a human impossibility. 

It was further discovered that his name was not 
George Andrews, but Charles C. Edwards, who ran 
away from his home near Indianapolis, Ind., when 
he was a boy, and went to Hew York City. He 
visited his home several times, the last time when 
his mother was very ill. His parents were then 
living near Ormond, Ky. He came home from 
Leadville, Col., and took his mother to Texas and 


i88 


The Mastery of Love 

Indian Territory for her health. This was twenty- 
nine years ago. In a few months his mother died. 

On December 24, 1894, he wrote a letter from 
Georgetown, British Guiana, 'to his father who 
was still living at Ormond, Ky. The letter abbre- 
viated is as follows : 

“ Georgetown^ Demerara, British Guiana^ 

South America^ Dec. ISQJf.. 
“ My deae old Father : 

“ It is with a source of pleasure I am enabled 
to write you once more, for no doubt you have 
often wondered what was ever become of me. 
Given me up for dead in all probability. Through 
the amalgamation of circumstances wrought by the 
panic and general depression throughout the United 
States, I concluded to try my luck in the new gold 
fields of British Guiana. I arrived here about the 
first of last May, and went immediately several 
hundred miles into the interior to the gold mines, 
where I have been ever since until a few days ago. 
My venture has proven fairly successful, and the 
future prospects are both cheerful and flattering. 

“ This is a most wonderful country. It abounds 
in many and varied opportunities for a thrifty 
person to accumulate wealth. Father, enclosed you 
will find a draft on 'Ne^Y York for $260, which I 
trust will reach you in time for a New Year’s gift 
and I am only sorry it is not more. Present it to 
your nearest local bank for payment. Should they 
refuse payment, leave it with them for collection 
and they will forward it on to New York. Just as 
soon as you receive this let me hear from you im- 
mediately, as I will be in the city until about Feb- 
ruary 1st, when I will be off for the mines again 
for at least another six months. 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 189 

‘‘ With a merry Christmas and a happy ISTew 
Year to you, Estella and Mr. Lander, and may God 
spare your life to enjoy many more and for me to 
see you once more, I will close for this time. 

“ I am, as ever, 

“ Your affectionate son, 

“ Charles C. Edwards, 

“ Georgetown^ British Guia/na^ 

“ South America^ 

This letter brought great joy to the Edwards 
home in Ormond, and especially to the father’s 
lonely heart, who had really thought his son was 
dead. The JS’ew Year’s gift was nothing compared 
with the news that his son was living. He hastened 
to reply on January 14th, which was the day the 
letter arrived. In reply to this letter Edwards, 
alias Andrews, wrote on February 27, 1895, the last 
letter he ever sent home. 

The circumstances leading up to the discovery of 
this and other letters were very interesting. The 
papers had written so much about Andrews that he 
was being talked of all over three states and 
ministers were calling on him to speak in their 
churches. A call came from the Methodist preacher 
at Ormond, Ky. Andrews accepted the invitation 
at once, and at the appointed time was there to 
speak. This was the home of his father and mother 
and sister. He got off the train at this same depot 
about twenty-nine years before. His last letter 
was addressed to his father and sister at this place, 
where his father and mother now lie buried on the 


190 The Mastery of Love 

farm a short way from the village and where his 
widowed sister is now living. 

But Edwards, alias Andrews, went there as an 
utter stranger. No one knew him and he seemed 
not to know anybody in the village. He never 
once intimated by the remotest hint that he ever 
had any connection with the place. When the 
time came for him to speak, an immense crowd had 
assembled, packing the church to overflowing. 
While speaking he appeared to be in a specially 
happy mood. He smiled and laughed as he related 
many amusing and thrilling experiences of his 
strange career. At the close of the address, the 
pastor of the church asked the congregation to join 
in singing hymn No. 415 and then he read the flrst 
verse : 

“Faith of our fathers living still 
In spite of dungeon, fire and sword ; 

Oh, how our hearts beat high with joy 
Whene’er we hear that glorious word ! 

Faith of our fathers, holy faith ! 

We will be true to thee till death ! ’’ 

Just as the preacher flnished reading Mrs. Lander, 
a handsome, well-dressed woman, got up from a 
front seat and walked forward to speak to him. 
She was a leading member of the church, and so 
there was little surprise at her action except that 
expressed on the preacher’s own face. His coun- 
tenance flashed up in a perfect glow of excitement 
as she spoke to him. Her remark made in a sub- 
dued but animated manner was : “ I just wanted 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 191 

to tell you that the speaker is my long lost brother, 
Charley ! I know it ! I’m perfectly sure of it • 
And I thought you might want to say something 
about it.” She then walked back to her seat as the 
congregation began singing. Andrews seemed to 
scarcely observe the action of Mrs. Lander. But 
when the music began he plunged into the singing 
with a vengeance, and sang with such terrific force 
that the whole congregation got into a titter, then 
he began clapping his hands and singing louder 
even still, looMng at the ceiling as if in rapturous 
joy. When he got to the end of the first verse he 
went right on without a pause : 

“ Our fathers chained in prisons dark 
Were still in heart and conscience free.” 

He ran clear away from the organist and his 
bugle voice was drowning out the congregational 
singing to such an extent that nearly everybody 
had stopped and were staring at him in wonder. 
When he struck the last verse one could have heard 
him half a mile away. He seemed to be entranced 
and unconscious of what he was doing. The serious 
question was how could he ever stop ? But when 
he sang the last word he tried to add all the 
flourishes he could think of and shouted louder 
than ever — “ Amen ! AUelujah ! Glory to God ! 
Amen ! ” 

Ormond, Ky., was passing through the greatest 
sensation of its history. The people were struck 
with amazement by the strange message, and all 


192 The Mastery of Love 

the more by the stranger himself. The caper he 
cut while singing rather confused Mrs. Lander, who 
had been so sure of his being her brother. ]^ow 
she seemed to hesitate to claim him without further 
proof of identification. However, she arranged to 
have him invited to her physician’s home for dinner 
next day. She and her physician and pastor in the 
meantime discussed the matter and agreed to have 
him examined for certain scars. 

They all met at the doctor’s according to the 
arrangements and soon started the inquiry into his 
pedigree and possible relationship with Mrs. Lander. 
Andrews insisted that he never had a sister and 
that he was certain she could not be his sister. 
Notwithstanding the physician examined his leg 
for certain scars which Mrs. Lander claimed would 
be found if he was her brother. Sure enough there 
were the scars identically as described. But his 
persistent denial of all knowledge of his family 
connections was very disconcerting to her. After 
he had returned to the city the next day she wrote 
the following letter : 

“ Ormond^ Ky.^ March 16^ 1909. 

“ Me. Geoege Aivdeews, 

‘‘ Dear Brother in Christ : I feel so restless 
and wrought up over having seen you, that I can- 
not resist the impulse of writing to you. I have 
so often prayed for some tidings or knowledge of 
my lost brother. Sunday night, while tossing wake- 
fully, unable to obtain needed rest, the memory of 
an accident which occurred when my brother was 
a mere child flashed into my mind. 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 193 

“ My mother told me of it many years ago when 
my brother was lost from us for a time. She said 
when he was a little child toddling around, a 
woman who was helping do the work carelessly 
spilt a shovelful of coals on his back, and his little 
dress being open, the coals stuck into his flesh and 
made scars. Mother was so angry at the time that 
she felt she could never forgive the woman. But 
while talking to me many years afterwards, she 
looked at it in a different light. She said it might 
some day be the means of identifying her child. I 
am coming to the city soon. 

“ Hoping then to see you face to face, as talking 
is much better than writing, I will close with the 
kindest love of a sister. 

“ Mrs. Estella Edwards Lander.” 

Mrs. Lander came and spent two days. We did 
our best to convince Andrews that he was Mrs. 
Lander’s brother. We compared photographs, 
handwriting, studied family traits, characteristics, 
and every fact was evidence in favor of this hy- 
pothesis. I examined his back for the burns and 
there were small scars and some small black specks, 
but they scarcely looked like burns. While we 
were convinced of his relation, he stoutly and posi- 
tively denied having any knowledge whatever of 
his father, mother, sister and home. He declared 
he had never been in Ormond before, that he never 
wrote the letters from Georgetown and knew noth- 
ing of them. 

Soon after Mrs. Lander returned home, he ac- 
cepted an invitation to visit her. He spent about a 
week. During this time, he was seen one morning 


194 The Mastery of Love 

about daylight over in the family graveyard. It 
was so early that no one was supposed to be awake. 
He walked around slowly, apparently in a deep 
study, then he stooped over as if reading every 
word on the tombstones. He got a few leaves off 
of the grave of his father and mother and put them 
carefully into his little pocketbook. 

As it still was not time for the family to rise, he 
returned to his room and came down to breakfast 
later without ever once referring to his visit to the 
graveyard. It was during this trip that he wrote 
me the following letter : 


“ Mr. McCulloch, 

“ Dear Brother : Thought to write to ac- 
quaint you with my condition. Monday evening I 
was very poorly. Tuesday all day did not rest. 
I ventured out into the woods, penetrating some 
distance, came upon a beautiful ravine, and upon 
the sloping side lay down in this quiet place to rest 
— to be alone with God and His handiwork, nature. 
So exhausted and weak was my condition that the 
singing of the birds, their constant flitting from tree 
to tree, the shades, tints, contour of leaves, different 
formations in the tree life, a perfect melody and 
harmony of bird and tree life, that eye and ear were 
enriched and the mind rested and made glad. I 
was thus carried to the sides, to the Creator, Giver 
of all good things, and under His shadow I went to 
sleep. Woke up with severe pains in the stomach. 
To comfort me a rabbit came up close and began 
eating. It stayed long enough to become interest- 
ing and entertaining. The pains went away and I 
returned to the house. Every one is so thoughtful 


The Discovery of Andrews* Record 195 

and kind. Plenty of hot milk and crackers. This 
morning I am feeling improved. To-morrow the 
minister and family are coming and the young peo- 
ple are planning parties and outings. By to-morrow 
I may be all right. I hope so. 

“ Very respectfully, 

“ Geoege Andeews.” 

Further information came in a letter from the 
pastor of the Fulton Street Church in New York. 

“ My deae Sie and Beothee : 

“Yours of March 13th has been awaiting 
my reply for some time owing to the fact that I 
wanted to secure several items of information be- 
fore writing to you. 

“ Mr. George Andrews was here in New York 
for some time and I became deeply interested in him 
and in his work, and undertook the organization of 
a committee to back him in his work. 

“ During that time which was back in 1906 he 
became interested in becoming a member of my 
church and joined the church by experience and 
baptism on December 31, 1906. 

“ He was also married during that time while he 
was here. There was some irregularity about his 
marriage, owing to the fact that a man attempted 
to marry him who had no right to do so. This was 
afterwards straightened out at my suggestion, so 
that he became legally married. 

“During the time of his staying here another 
man who brought Mr. Andrews to me first, a Mr. 
Ross, went with him to different openings that 1 
secured where he could present his story and secure 
people’s interests for the work he intended to do as 
a missionary in South America. 


196 The Mastery of Love 

“ I insisted that the money which came in in that 
way should be laid aside for the purpose of getting 
his outfit, as people gave it with that intention. 
But in every case it was used for running expenses, 
and I afterwards understood that it was divided be- 
tween the two men. I insisted by a strong sugges- 
tion on its being used for the purpose named, and 
Mr. Andrews ceased to come near us. 

“ Afterwards I learned that he had gone to South 
America. This I doubted very much, because other 
friends had seen him here, so they said, after he was 
supposed to have gone to South America. 

‘‘ I was unable to find out just where he was, 
neither could I find out where his wife was, until 
just a short time ago I received a letter from his 
wife, a copy of which I enclose herewith. 

“ This wuU show you that she is still under the 
impression that he is in South America, but she has 
not heard from him for two years, — just two years 
ago to-day. 

“ I cannot help but feel that the story he tells is 
true in a measure. It wonderfully grips one when 
he tells it, and the people of my church were greatly 
taken with it, and he was unanimously elected to 
the membership of same. 

“ However, there is something lacking in the 
matter of integrity, just what it is I cannot tell, but 
his treatment of his wife and his treatment of us 
clearly indicates that there is something wrong. 

“ I am writing to his wife to-day. I should like 
to know how long he has been with you, and how 
soon he expects to go out. 

“ Very sincerely yours, 

‘‘ F. H. Johnston.” 

The following is the letter from Mr. Andrews’ 
wife : 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 197 
‘‘Mr. Johnston, 

“ Dear Sir : I received your letter ; pardon 
me for not answering at once. 

“ I cannot give you the information you ask for. 
I have not heard from my husband since March 
24th, two years ago. He was then in South 
America. He said he would write to me again 
soon, but I have not heard from him since. 

“ He left Hew York February 14th, two years 
ago. He had some money and was going to work 
his Avay. I gave him all the money I could spare. 
Will let you know at once when I hear from my 
husband again. 

“ I was obliged to leave the city. My dressmak- 
ing business did not pay, owing to the panic. I 
was out of work and had a very hard time to sup- 
port myself. My cousin owns a large farm up here 
in the mountains. She invited me to come and stay 
with her as long as I wanted to. 

“ I shall remain here this summer, and then 
secure employment in the city again. Perhaps the 
times will be better by that time and I Avill be more 
successful. 

“ I am, 

“ Very respectfully, 
“Mrs. E. B. Andrews.” 


By this time I was beginning to feel that Andrews 
was a desperate character. I called McGregor to 
my office. We had been studying him together 
and had a long talk about him. We then agreed 
to call Andrews in and confront him with all the 
evidence we had. I had McGregor to conduct the 
inquisition. It was giant meeting giant — one was 
the very incarnation of reality — the other was a 


198 The Mastery of Love 

shrewd, powerful, heartless fraud. There they sat 
facing each other in my office defiantly. My office 
never seemed so small before, but a ten acre field 
would not have been large enough for such a meet- 
ing. ^ 

McGregor began with a solemn frown : ‘‘ Well, 
Mr. Andrews, we want to talk with you a while 
and ask you some questions.” “ All right,” said 
Andrews, with a cynical smile, “ fire away ! ” 
McGregor looked straight at Andrews and shot 
these questions at him rapidly : “You say your 
name is Andrews ? ” “ Yes, sir,” he replied. “ And 
you say you were an orphan and never knew your 
father or mother or sister ? ” “ That’s right, sir.” 

“Well, I believe you say you were converted in 
hiew York City six years ago?” “Yes, I was.” 
“ And then you went immediately to South America 
as a missionary where you have spent nearly six 
years ? ” “ Yes, sir, that’s right.” 

“ I believe you said you were never married, that 
you never joined any church, that you were never 
baptized and that you came from La Paz to 
Panama and from Panama to New Orleans, then to 
Yicksburg, Memphis, McKenzie and then on here ? ” 
“All that is correct, sir,” replied Andrews nerv- 
ously, his eyes fairly afiame. 

McGregor pulled his chair close up in front of 
Andrews and putting his hand on Andrews’ knee 
he addressed him thus : “Now, old man, I am 
sorry for you and I hate to say it, but every state- 
ment you have made to me here is a lie ! ” An- 


The Discovery of Andrews’ Record 199 
% 

drews flinched, his face flushed in a rage of anger, 
his eyes began to glisten and twitch. McGregor 
paused just a moment then continued : “ No, no, it 
will do no good to get angry with me. I am not 
afraid of you in the slightest. Now, let me tell 
you some facts about your life that I have collected 
here in these letters (here McGregor held up a big 
handful of letters). You were born near Indian- 
apolis June 14, 1847 ; you ran away from home 
when you were about fifteen and went to New 
York; you were in the United States army and 
were court-martialed July 1, 1873, and escaped 
from prison on Alcatraz Island, California, May 22, 
1874 ; you then left this country and went to South 
America; later you returned and began mining 
gold at Leadville, Col. ; from there you came back 
to Ormond, Ky., twenty-nine years ago when your 
mother was quite ill ; you took her to Texas and 
Indian Territory for her health ; later you left and 
went back West. From there you went to George- 
town, British Guiana, as a gold mining prospector ; 
from there you wrote to your father at Ormond, 
Ky., the last time February 27, 1895 ; you went 
to Cuba during the Spanish- American War ; and 
then returned to South America; this time go- 
ing in from the west side across the Andes in order 
that you might penetrate to gold fields hitherto in- 
accessible from the Atlantic side. 

“You returned to New York. After excessive 
dissipation you went to a religious meeting where 
you resolved to live a better life. Then you went 


200 


The Mastery of Love 

back to La Paz and on across the Andes into Brazil, 
in search of gold ; you failed ; then you worked up 
this speech and returned to ISTew York where you 
hoped to get money ; while there you joined the 
Collegiate Church in Fulton Street and were bap- 
tized ; there also you were married ; you then fell 
in with some Mormon elders ; left your wife and 
went to Cincinnati, from there to Salt Lake City ; 
then to Central America as a member of a Mormon 
missionary party. You fell out with them in a 
violent altercation with an elder and returned by 
way of New Orleans. Now that is your life history, 
and you know it ! ” Here McGregor stopped to 
give Andrews a chance to speak. He said nothing. 
McGregor then asked : “ Now, why did you try to 
deceive us ? You know that what I say is true. 
What are you going to do about all this ? ” 

“ Do about it ? ” broke in Andrews, with a very 
serious countenance and a far-away look. “ I don’t 
know. It all comes to me now. I guess you are 
right. I know what I would like to do — I wish I 
could just go away off on the top of some mountain 
alone with God and lie down and die and end it 
all.” We then asked Andrews to think over the 
matter and come back later and tell us what he 
would do. He left after shaking hands with both 
of us and his last word was, I have lived a terrible 
life, gentlemen, I have lived a terrible life. You 
don’t know all yet, and I am tired. I’ll tell you, I 
am tired and sick of it all, and I just wish I could 
lie down and die, and let that be the last of it.” 


The Discovery of Andrews* Record 201 

Andrews passed out the door and walked away 
quietly as if in profound study. If the earth had 
suddenly opened and swallowed him he would not 
have been more completely lost from our sight and 
knowledge. 

His last remark somewhat distressed McGregor 
who thought that possibly he might execute his ex- 
pressed wish on leaving and seek release from the 
slavery of his conscience and record by the mar- 
riage of death. 


‘ :*Li 


IX 


Death in the Homes of the Poor 























IX 


DEATH IN THE HOMES OF THE POOR 

T he progress of civilization in any country 
is measured by the value that is placed on 
the individual life, and by the respect that 
is shown for the dead. The line of march of 
modern civilization is rather uncertain — it is partly 
progressive and partly retrogressive. There are 
large gaps in the ranks caused by the shameful in- 
fluences that have been centred in the modern city. 
The highest and the lowest types of human society 
to-day are in the cities — the same cities ! There on 
the one hand you will And the greatest value placed 
on the individual life, and on the other the greatest 
indifference for life. There the greatest and the 
least respect is shown for the dead. The modern 
city is not a unit ; it is not one civilization, but 
many. In every great city of America there is 
represented every type of civilization, from the 
semi-savage of the forest to the most highly cul- 
tured representative of Christianity. The modern 
city is so organized as to exert opposite influences 
at the same time. There is an unnamed aristocracy 
of wealth and education to whose progress the city 
ministers. There are also great masses of the pop- 
ulation whose degradation the city makes all but 
inevitable. People are allowed, yea forced, to live 
205 


2o6 The Mastery of Love 

under conditions in which all proper regard for life 
is lost and respect for the dead is abandoned. It is 
in the slums, among the city’s poor, that anarchists, 
murderers, thugs and the like are made. Miss 
Rishnell has written some very interesting and 
suggestive observations on this subject of criminol- 
ogy* 

“ I have watched the first manifestations of traits 
of character which invariably stamp the criminal. 
Whether in the making or in the finished product, 
the criminal comes more nearly revealing his true 
self in the presence of his own dead than anywhere 
else. 

“ This sad incident came under my observation 
in Hell’s Acre. A mother of a large family was 
dying. Her little babe of four days was also 
dying. 

“ I had watched by their bed all night, and in the 
gray of the morning went home to rest a while. 
At ten o’clock I approached the house with softened 
step, feeling sure that all was over. Just as I 
latched the gate, the large overgrown boy of 
thirteen bolted out of the front door with a slam 
and met my astonished gaze with a face all smiles, 
and these dreadful words upon his lips, — ‘ Dag-gone 
it ! Ma’s dead ! Ho more school fer me ! ’ ‘ Oh, 

Harry, child,’ I said, as I caught his hand and 
pulled him to the step and sat down. ‘Why do 
you talk in that dreadful way ? ’ ‘ Why ? ’ he 

said with evident disgust at my question as he 
twirled his old broad-brimmed hat on his fore 


Death in the Homes of the Poor 207 

finger. ‘ It’s why enough ! Ma’s always made me 
go to school ; an’ it’s always been Harry this, an’ 
Harry that, an’ Har-ry, be good, an’ Har-r-y, keep 
away from bad boys — till I’m that rattlin’ tired of 
it, an’ I’m glad she’s gone, an’ I can do as I please.’ 
Then, with just time to catch his breath, he 
shouted — ‘ Gee whilerkins, the fellers ’ull have to 
hump now to keep me in sight ! ’ 

“And they did, indeed. For during the next 
year Harry was under arrest frequently for all sorts 
of juvenile offenses. He was then convicted of 
house-breaking and larceny and sent to the peniten- 
tiary for two years. Immediately after his release, 
he and another boy were found guilty of drugging 
and criminally assaulting a girl, for which they both 
got fifteen years in the penitentiary. 

“Another death scene, of the most shocking 
character, occurred not far from the settlement one 
evening just at sundown. I remember how I felt 
that the sun had hidden his face from a gruesome 
spectacle that many people viewed with interest 
and evident delight. There had been a family 
quarrel, the participants being an elderly man and 
his wife, their nephew and his wife. The old man 
was drunk, ‘ dead drunk,’ and the nephew ‘ fighting 
tipsy.’ As the old woman was a prolific swearer, 
the elderly couple got the best of the fray in the 
house. Then the old man left and went to a 
saloon, only a few steps away, to ‘drown his 
trouble,’ while the nephew borrowed a shotgun 
and went in search of his uncle with the evident 


2o8 The Mastery of Love 

intention of ‘ getting in deep,’ as the boys express 
it. They met right on the corner in front of the 
saloon, and the old man’s head was literally blown 
off. These facts in themselves are almost too awful 
to relate, and yet they are mild compared with the 
scene that followed. 

“ The coroner’s inquest was so very slow and 
tedious that the body was allowed to lie there 
nearly three hours exposed to public gaze, and a 
long procession of people ‘ improved ’ the oppor- 
tunity. Women grabbed their children — mere 
babies — and rushed to within a few feet of the 
body, while in a loud jargon they discussed and 
talked and laughed. Old men and young men 
passed by, often striking the foot against the body, 
as they hurried into the saloon for a drink and re- 
turned for a surmise as to what probable course the 
law would take. Young women returning from 
work jostled up as near as possible and satisfied 
their gaze, one of them declaring as she passed me 
that she ‘ would not have missed it for the world.’ 
And the small boys, — the future citizens of the 
ward — God pity them ! How they enjoyed the 
whole scene ! How they admired the courage of 
the slayer ! How they stored their minds with the 
curses and the evil suggestions as they fell from the 
lips of their elders ! One little fellow of not more 
than ten was seen with his foot propped up on the 
dead man’s thigh as in his excitement he told a 
crowd of belated comers how it all happened. 

“ Just beyond that listless crowd as they elbowed 


Death in the Homes of the Poor 209 

each other and laughed and cursed, was that old 
woman, the wife of the murdered man, standing on 
a goods box in the corner of the little yard, with 
hair dishevelled and bloodshot, tearless eyes, calling 
upon God to avenge the murder of her husband, 
and swearing with all her strength. Those who 
had been satisfied with the other sight were 
gathered in the street in front of the house, drink- 
ing in the awful stream of imprecations. IN^o one 
was near her, not even inside the yard, and as I 
worked my way through the crowd towards her 
there were expressions of disapproval all through 
the crowd. One woman caught my arm and said, 
‘ Heavens alive, woman, she’s that mad she’ll eat 
you up ! ’ But no, I hastened through the yard 
and as I laid my hand on her arm, I said in a quiet 
way, ‘ Get down and let’s go into the house and talk 
it all over.’ She stared in blank amazement for a 
moment and then fell on my shoulder and wept. 
Talk about death’s sting ! I know one person who 
drank the cup of Gethsemane that night. 

“ It was quite dark when I left the house to go 
to the settlement. A large crowd was still throng- 
ing the streets in great excitement. The very at- 
mosphere seemed uncanny and terrible. I dreaded 
the crowd and hesitated a moment on the door-step. 
Just then I saw Mr. McGregor step inside the gate. 
On meeting me in the yard he said : ‘ Miss Kishnell, 
I thought possibly I could be of some service and 
so waited out here for you.’ Taking his arm, I 
thanked him for his thoughtfulness and we walked 


210 


The Mastery of Love 

on to the settlement. I knew that his heart was 
very sad because of his mother’s death, so in our 
conversation after reaching my library, I asked him 
if he would not take charge of the Keading-room 
Association and men’s club, and thus help me make 
Christianity a reality in the community. He 
readily accepted the position, saying he would 
gladly do anything on earth to help repay me for 
my kindness to his mother. His eyes filled with 
tears at the reference to his mother’s death and he 
walked over to the window looking far away as if 
trying to control his emotions. Presently he turned 
and with his eyes fixed on the floor said : ‘ Miss 
Kishnell, you seem to be very happy in your work ? ’ 
I assured him that I was. Thereupon he replied : 
‘ I thought so, and I would give the world for your 
faith and joy.’ I assured him that if he would get 
away from his speculative studies for a while and 
live the life that I was living in daily contact with 
the heart of sincere people, he too would have my 
faith and joy. He left thanking me for assigning 
him the work in the settlement and saying : ‘ Miss 
Kishnell, as my dear mother is away, I want to 
make one request ; won’t you pray for me that I may 
live each day as she said — true to Jesus Christ ?’ 
As he took my hand there burst from his great 
heart a royal : ‘ God bless you. Miss Kishnell. God 
bless you ! Good-night ! ’ ” 

The following incident presents still another 
aspect of the life of the poor. 

‘‘ A young girl, lured by the promise of ‘ high 


Death in the Homes of the Poor 211 

wages and a gay time ’ came from the country to 
our district. She got work in a laundry at $2.50 a 
week with the promise of a ‘ raise.’ She boarded 
at a dreadful place, so dreadful, indeed, that I must 
turn aside from my narrative just to describe that 
‘respectable boarding-house.’ There were four 
rooms. In the front room lived and slept a Mr. 

and Mrs. A and two children, Mr. A ’s 

grown brother and Mrs. A ’s grown brother ; 

Mr. and Mrs. B and a baby. In the second 

room were Mr. and Mrs. M , who kept the 

boarding-house ; Mr. and Mrs. K and two 

children ; and Carrie Long, the girl from the 
country. The other two small rooms were used 
as kitchen and dining-room. 

“ Carrie got along very nicely with her work till 
one cold J anuary night, after being in the heat and 
steam of the laundry all day, she was so chilled by 
the walk home that acute pneumonia followed. 
Then of course the ‘ respectable house ’ had no room 
for her. She was hurried off the next morning to 
the city hospital. After three days of intense 
suffering, death came, and she was sent back to the 
house from whence she had been taken. But the 
‘ landlord ’ said he ‘ couldn’t have his place broke 
up just for the sake of a dead girl.’ That was his 
explanation as he conducted the ambulance to our 
door for us to take her in. As it was, however, in 
our small quarters, there was absolutely no place to 
put the body. On that day school was in progress ; 
when that closed, the night session began ; and in 


212 


The Mastery of Love 

addition there were to be social functions in the 
other rooms. If I had it to do over, though, I 
would have dismissed school and turned the house 
upside down rather than not to have taken in that 
corpse. 

“Two neighbors were appealed to unsuccessfully, 
and the third gladly offered her own room for 
the accommodation of the dead. She moved her 
bed into the kitchen, scrubbed the floor and did 
everything she could in her own crude way ‘ to make 
things pleasant.’ She was very superstitious, so 
before the body of Carrie was allowed to be brought 
in, she turned the face of every picture to the wall, 
and covered the mirror with a black apron, the 
reason being, as she stated, ‘ if the dead is ’fleeted 
in anything, the person who sees it will be sure to 
die next.’ Then, as an extra precaution, and pro- 
tection of her family, she went across the way and 
borrowed an old game cock that was regarded with 
superstitious reverence by the entire district as the 
thing that ‘ kept off haunts and spirits.’ There the 
poor, homeless body reposed till Mr. Long came 
from the country and took it home. 

“ One of the saddest experiences I ever had was 
in a home where life meant everything. There was 
an old couple. A very unusual thing to And in a 
city’s slums ; in fact, the only couple I have ever 
known to survive to old age in this slum amid ‘ the 
pestilence that walketh in darkness ’ and ‘ the de- 
struction that wasteth at noonday.’ I^Tot only had 
they escaped the evil influences of their bitter and 


Death in the Homes of the Poor 213 

narrow surroundings, but they were as fresh and 
vigorous in their love for each other as they had 
been fifty-two years ago when they took the mar- 
riage vow. It was refreshing to see them. 

“ The old man was sick, and we all knew that 
there were only a few days of life left for him. 
Even during his hours of greatest suffering, he 
never seemed to forget his tender solicitude for his 
aged wife. The ravages of a long and tedious spell 
of tuberculosis and the imminence of death made 
him feel more keenly his obligation as husband and 
protector. As she moved about in their little one- 
room house, trying to tidy up and adjust the 
meagre furnishings to the best advantage, his eyes 
would foUow her lovingly, and his voice was often 
heard in protest, ‘How, dearie, don’t do that.’ 
One day after she had had a trying experience 
toasting bread at a smoking grate she carried it to 
him with her eyes red and her hand burned. He 
had been watching the process with a pained ex- 
pression. 

“ When she had adjusted the things on a chair 
that they might eat this bite together, he first 
said to me, ‘Speak thanks, that we may eat in 
peace.’ He then took her hand in his and carried 
it to his hot cheek and said, ‘ Little girl, it wa’n’t 
my hope to bring you to the like o’ this. I’s been 
a poor husband, but I’s tried to do my best.’ He 
had been very fond of my reading to him. He 
was a thinking man though he could not read or 
write a word. He was very fond of church history. 


214 The Mastery of Love 

We had spent many hours lamenting over the 
popes and their follies, and rejoicing over Luther 
and the Keformation. One day I was going to read 
to him while ‘ Lady ’ went to the corner grocery to 
get ‘Jo-ey’ a fresh egg. I had not yet begun 
when he said, ‘ Put down that book, and let me 
talk.’ He told me of their early hopes, of the one 
boy whom ‘ Lady ’ had set her heart on and how he 
had died of consumption. Of how everything he 
had ‘ turned his hand to had gone agin him ’ ; of 
how he ‘ lost out on the best job by drinkin’ rum ’ ; 
of how this sickness had come on before he could 
get on his feet again. It was indeed a sad story, of 
hope, of endeavor, of sin, of failure, of regret, and 
now of death staring him in the face, and his aged 
companion utterly alone and unprovided for. 

“ The last day had come, and the shadows were 
falling. The anguish and loneliness of ‘Lady’ 
were past description, while ‘ Jo-ey ’ seemed to be 
burdened with the thought that starvation was all 
that was left for her. All was quiet for a while 
and we thought the end had come. A bakery 
wagon that had daily cried ‘ bread ’ at the door 
rumbled by. The old man clasped his hands, and 
like a child saying his morning prayer, whispered, 
‘ Give us this day our daily bread. Amen.’ That 
was all. 

“ The next day there was a funeral from that lit- 
tle one-room cottage. There was no hearse, but in 
its place a neighbor’s express wagon carried the 
shiny coffin. There was no carriage, but a rattling 


Death in the Homes of the Poor 215 

surrey carried the preacher, a friend, and a little 
old woman who was holding fast to a young 
woman’s hand. There were no flowers, but a gentle 
breeze came by, laden with the scent of honey- 
suckle and jasmine. There was a new-made grave 
in the ‘ strangers’ row ’ with a little woman in black 
bending low over the moist sod. And then there 
was another ride back to the one little room. And 
the night came.” 


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WHEEE SIN LEADS WEALTH TO MORAL 
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“ N my return to the settlement one even- 

■ m ing,” Miss Rishnell writes, “ I was as- 
tonished to find Lillian and a young man 
waiting for me. She was a picture of gladness and 
was almost hysterical in her expressions of pleasure 
at seeing me. Introducing her friend she said, 
‘ This is Mr. Frank Kirkwood. Mama is away at 
the district missionary meeting, and papa has gone 
off on a trip to Memphis ; and we came over to see 
you.’ 

“ Her voice and look made me feel intuitively 
that something was wrong. I turned to the young 
man and began asking some questions. I had heard 
of a Frank Kirkwood, whose father had for years 
been an intimate friend of Mr. Millburn and who 
was at that time superintendent of one of the lead- 
ing Sunday-schools of the city. I knew that this 
Frank Kirkwood was regarded as one of the most 
exemplary young men in the city, and so I was 
eager to learn whether Lillian’s escort was the same 
man. My inquiries soon brought out the fact that 
he was indeed the son of Captain Kirkwood. For 
a moment my fears left me and I breathed easier. 
I even censured myself mentally for having ever 
219 


220 


The Mastery of Love 

suspected evil of the young couple. But we were 
scarcely seated in my library when Lillian referred 
to the fact that they had just come from the mati- 
nee at the Bijou Theatre. This discovery broke my 
confidence again and aroused my suspicion. The 
whole situation then began to seem terrible to me. 
There was that innocent girl scarcely more than 
fourteen, whose heart had been starved for the 
lack of love in her home. Her mother was so oc- 
cupied with her church affairs and club meetings 
that she gave little time to Lillian. I knew, too, 
that Mrs. Millburn really did not love her daugh- 
ter. Mr. Millburn was a banker and interested in 
a dozen or more large business enterprises. He was 
so absorbed in making money that he seldom spent 
an hour with his daughter. She was almost an or- 
phan girl as regards parental love and attention. 
Her intensely affectionate nature made me feel that 
she was on the brink of destruction. I could not 
allow her to leave with him. So I telephoned over 
to Mr. Millburn’s residence and informed the old 
colored woman who had been left in charge of the 
home that Lillian was going to stay with me that 
night. 

“ I learned afterwards that this old woman had 
been paid largely by Frank to let Lillian go with 
him to the theatre, something her mother never 
allowed, and something Frank was supposed never 
to do. With considerable difficulty I persuaded the 
old woman and Lillian to agree to this arrangement. 

“After Frank was gone, I did all I could to 


Sin, Wealth and Moral Poverty 221 

make Lillian feel comfortable. She had been over 
to see me a number of times. I always felt drawn 
to her, but now I was at a loss to understand her 
movements. She was so utterly unlike the quiet 
girl I had known. All the evening she seemed to 
be in a perfect glee. Later she began telling me 
about Frank. I soon saw that she was completely 
infatuated with him. She went almost into ec- 
stasy on telling me of some things he had said to 
her. 

“ The next afternoon I went with Lillian home, 
thinking we would reach there about the time her 
mother would return. Her train was delayed, how- 
ever, and I had to leave without seeing her at all. 

“ Mrs. Millburn shortly afterwards was taken ill 
with typhoid fever and died without my ever see- 
ing her. After her mother’s death, Lillian seemed 
to avoid me. I made several attempts to see her, 
suspecting that Frank’s influence was keeping her 
away. 

“ In September I went to Europe, and was gone 
till the following March. Soon after my return I 
was horrified one evening when Lillian’s aunt. Miss 
Watson, telephoned me that they were in extreme 
distress over Lillian, and asked if I would not take 
charge of her. At my suggestion Lillian was put 
in a closed carriage next morning and brought by 
her aunt to the settlement. In the meantime I 
had rented a private room next door which was 
fitted up for their use and made as attractive and 
cozy as possible. For over six weeks they never 


222 The Mastery of Love 

left this room except for an occasional walk after 
dark. 

“ During those long, awful days, she became the 
most pitiable object I ever saw. She was like 
a frightened bird. Every sound made her flinch. 
She wouldn’t talk or take interest in anything 
about her. She slept extremely little, often get- 
ting up during the night and walking the floor and 
weeping as if her heart would break with grief. 
In all that six weeks I never once saw her smile. 
At times she had a far-off, dreamy look, as if griev- 
ing over the death of a friend ; again she appeared 
dazed and stunned. One afternoon while I was 
talking with her aunt, she spoke up while walking 
the floor as if from a deep reverie. She didn’t 
address either of us, but simply spoke as if think- 
ing aloud : ‘ Wonder if Frank knows where I 

am ? I wish I could see him. Though I guess he 
don’t care now. Nobody cares now. Oh, I wish I 
could have mama back again. Mama would tell me ; 
she would stay with me. She knows and I could 

tell her all about it, and she would ” Here 

she broke down weeping aloud and fell in a swoon 
across the bed. I got up, walked quietly to the 
bed and lay down by her side. Her hands were 
under her face so that I could not take hold of 
either. I stroked her cheek gently and said: 
‘ Lillian, won’t you let me take the place of mama ? 
Just let me be mother now. I love you, and I’ll 
do anything on earth to help you.’ As she reached 
out one hand I clasped it and pressed it to my 


Sin, Wealth and Moral Poverty 223 

cheek, kissing it again and again. After sobbing a 
while, she said, ‘Oh, Miss Kishnell, I wish you 
were my mother I I need you ; I need mama ! ’ 
She paused a moment and then continued : ‘ Oh, 
I wish I could die and end it all. I feel so lone- 
some ; I can’t stand it. I do wish I could die and 
go to mama. She could tell me.’ It took some 
time to get her quiet. 

“ I then left the room promising to return in a 
few minutes. I wanted to do a motherly act to 
convince her of my love. So I hastened over to 
the settlement and prepared the nicest supper I 
could in a short time and carried it in to her and 
her aunt. As I walked in the door with the 
heavy tray, I said as cheerfully as I could : ‘ Here, 
Lillian, your mother has brought your supper.’ 
She got up and started towards me. I hardly had 
time to set the tray on the little table in the centre 
of the room till she threw her arms around me and 
laying her head on my breast exclaimed : ‘Yes, 
you are my mother now ; the only one in all the 
world who cares. Miss Kishnell, won’t you just let 
me call you mama ? I’ll do anything you ask me 
— only be my mama.’ 

“ Hot many days after this, we were talking in 
the room one evening when I spoke of seeing Frank 
at church the Sunday before. In response to this 
remark Lillian asked : ‘ Miss Kishnell, do you think 
it is right for Frank to lead prayer-meeting now ? ’ 
For a moment I was at a loss to know what she 
meant, then her aunt seeing my questioning look 


224 Mastery of Love 

stated that Frank was a worker in the church and 
professed to be sanctified. He was frequently 
appointed by the pastor, she said, to lead prayer- 
meeting, because he could pray and talk so well. 
The hypocrisy of his conduct seemed so unspeak- 
ably heinous that I later made inquiry and learned 
that the facts were exactly as they had been stated. 
Hot only so, but Frank is to-day a leader in the 
same church and honored as if he were one of the 
purest and noblest men in the city. He is not 
honored thus for his character, but for his social 
standing and for his father’s wealth. A liideous 
spectacle, indeed ! The hot blood of indignation 
makes my nerves tingle to think of it — the Church 
— the Bride of the Son of God courting villains for 
their gold ! Yet the pastor renominates him again 
this very year. Because he said the church could 
not afford to provoke the ill will of his father, 
who pays nearly half of all the expenses of the 
church. May God save us from such slavery to 
wealth ! A thousand times better not have 
churches at all than to compromise with sin for 
money. Better far that we should lift our voices 
in worship under the forest oak than to allow the 
rich to purchase our freedom by building our 
churches. A church that is poor but pure has 
nothing under heaven to fear ; but the church 
that is rich and corrupt is on the down grade to 
destruction. 

“ About two o’clock one Sunday morning I was 
awakened by a vigorous ringing of the door- 


Sin, Wealth and Moral Poverty 225 

bell. I knew at once the trouble. I looked out 
the window and called down : ‘ Miss Watson, is that 
you ?’ ‘ Yes, Miss Kishnell,’ she replied nervously, 

‘ come over quick, don’t delay a minute, we need 
you, and telephone the doctor at once.’ I hastened 
over to the room and began getting things ready. 

“Presently the doctor came and took charge. 
All went well and little Ellen soon embarked on 
the perilous journey of life. Lillian did remark- 
ably well. 

“ In all my life, I have never seen any one change 
so much in so short a time as LiUian. Before she 
had moved about as if in a trance, listless and in- 
different to everything about her. Life had been 
for months one terrible regret as she carried under 
her heart that lump of sorrow. But now it was so 
different. When I had dressed the baby, I brought 
her and laid her down close against Lillian on the 
bed. Even then it was hard to believe that Lillian 
was a mother. She was so young. She looked 
more like a child with her doll. The mother love 
awoke in Lillian’s heart almost instantaneously. It 
was marvellous ; as wonderful as a miracle. She 
became completely absorbed in her child. The 
mother love swept over her like a deluge ; she was 
overwhelmed, and thought of nothing but the child. 
Ellen was the magnet towards which every thought 
pointed. We could not get her to talk of anything 
else. All the past had suddenly been blotted from 
memory. She did not seem to grieve, nor have the 
slightest trace of regret left. She was satisfied 


226 The Mastery of Love 

and happy in her new, strange and consuming 
love. 

“ When the child was about two weeks old, I be- 
gan to appreciate the seriousness of the situation. 
I knew that Lillian and the baby would soon have 
to be separated. Lillian’s condition and where- 
abouts had been kept an absolute secret from all 
her relatives and friends. Only her father and 
aunt knew. All the rest thought she was off at 
school. Up to this time even her father had 
visited her but twice — once shortly before the birth 
of the child and a few days after. Both times I 
had excused myself soon after he entered the room 
and left to save their embarrassment as much as 
possible. I scarcely knew him at all. But Miss 
Watson told me that Mr. Millburn was firm in his 
decision to have Lillian give up the baby as soon as 
possible and return home. I felt sure she would 
object to giving up the child and I was not certain 
that she would even be willing to go back home. 
I consulted the doctor. He insisted that Lillian 
ought to give up the child and go home in a few 
days. What could I do ? I sent for Mr. Millburn. 
I expected him to come in his automobile ; but he 
came in a closed carriage. I did not want to dis- 
cuss the matter before Lillian, so we went up to my 
library in the settlement. I explained the circum- 
stances, and how Lillian’s devotion to the child 
would make it extremely difficult for us to separate 
them. 

“ He then told me of his grief. I never thought 


Sin, Wealth and Moral Poverty 227 

it was possible for a man to experience such 
anguish of heart as he said he had felt. None of us 
knew it, but he said he had walked the streets in 
sight of Lillian’s room every night till the lights 
were out. For over two weeks at one time he had 
not gone to bed, and often since he sat up all night. 
He seemed to take it all to heart and blame himself 
for her sin. He said to me : ‘ Miss Kishnell, I have 
been so absorbed in my business, in making money 
that I neglected my home. If I had loved LiUian 
as I should this awful sorrow would never have 
occurred.’ Then he broke down and wept till I 
thought I would have to send for the physician. I 
couldn’t quite understand the bitter anguish of his 
soul. Then he explained : ‘ I have professed to be 
a Christian. But my God has been gold. My 
greed for money has led to this trouble. I see my 
mistake now. If I could blot out this horrible 
stain from our home, I would gladly give up all my 
wealth and live the rest of my days in poverty.’ 

“ Nemesis had overtaken him and the icy fingers 
of remorse were clutching round his heart. He was 
the picture of despair. He was only forty-six, but 
his hair, which had been a dark brown, had in the 
last few months turned almost white. 

“ He wanted to take Lillian home with him in the 
closed carriage that night, but I knew such an ef- 
fort would fail utterly. The next day I talked 
with Lillian about giving up her child. For to 
leave the baby with me seemed less an evil than for 
her to undertake the impossible task of rearing the 


228 The Mastery of Love 

child in her own home. At first the idea struck her 
as something preposterous. Her love made her 
blind to the difficulties in the way. She said : ‘ 111 
never give up my darling. She is mine. She is 
dearer to me than my own life. It would be wrong 
for me to give her up.’ I tried to argue the matter 
with her by explaining that she owed it to her rel- 
atives and friends to keep this experience a secret 
from them. Then I became positive and said 
definitely: ‘Lillian, there is but one thing for 
you to do ; you must give up * your baby and go 
back home.’ I saw the words made her fiinch and 
then she became desperate. As I observed the keen 
pain expressed in her face, I felt that my words 
were cruel. She drew her baby closer and looked 
defiant as she said : ‘ I’ll never leave my darling ; 
no, never ! And if you take her from me I’ll kill 
myself ! I won’t give her up ! ’ I saw she was in 
no state of mind then to be persuaded, so I said : 
‘ All right, Lillian, don’t worry ; we’ll make it all 
right somehow.’ 

“ During the next few days, I used every in- 
direct method possible to turn her thought from her 
child. By suggestions I tried to make her feel that 
it was not only reasonable for her to give up the 
baby, but that if she really loved the child, it was 
her duty to place her where she could be properly 
cared for and trained. 

“ It then occurred to me that the most effective 
method would probably be to take her by storm. 
So I arranged for her father and the physician to 


Sin, Wealth and Moral Poverty 229 

come to the settlement prepared to take Lillian 
home regardless of her wishes. Their carriage 
drove up about eight o’clock at night. Little Ellen 
was asleep. Lillian was sitting by the cozy little 
cradle sewing. She seemed unusually happy as she 
chatted and laughed and watched her darling baby 
by her side. 

“When I heard the carriage stop in front, it 
seemed that nothing could be more cruel than to 
suddenly destroy forever the new and wonderful 
joy that was flooding Lillian’s heart. I never 
dreaded anything so in my life. When the door- 
bell rang, it sent a shiver all through me. For a 
moment I could not move, but simply looked at 
Lillian. Then the bell rang again. By this time 
Lillian was staring at me. As I walked towards 
the door, I noticed her turn, bend over her child 
and adjust the cover. 

“ Mr. Millburn and Dr. Hickson entered the room 
like messengers of death. Mr. Millburn was pale 
and trembling, and scarcely spoke above a whisper. 
Dr. Hickson tried to be cheerful and make light of 
the circumstance, but his forced humor seemed as 
heartless as a laugh at a funeral. I let him do the 
talking, for my tongue seemed to cling to the roof 
of my mouth. He walked over to the little cradle 
and as he looked down at the baby he remarked : 
‘ Well, Lillian, you ought to thank your stars that 
you won’t have to care for this kid ! ’ Her face 
flushed with terror ; she didn’t speak but just looked 
straight into my eyes. I saw she wanted me to ex- 


230 The Mastery of Love 

plain, so I walked over to where she was sitting by 
her father and stooping over and pressing my cheek 
against her forehead and then kissing it, I said, 
‘ Yes, Lillian, it is best. Yon must go home with 
your father to-night and I will take care of our 
dear baby.’ She began weeping bitterly and sobbed 
aloud : ‘ Oh, I can’t. Miss Eishnell, I can’t.’ I 
heard Dr. Hickson speak in an undertone to Mr. 
Millburn saying : ‘We must make short work of 
this business. The quicker the better.’ They evi- 
dently had agreed upon their tactics in advance, 
for Mr. Millburn got up at once and putting his hat 
on spoke in the most commanding voice : ‘ Lillian, 
you are my daughter. I know what is best. You 
must get ready and come right on and go with me 
home.’ Saying this he pulled her hand from her 
face and beckoning to the doctor they simply picked 
her up and carried her to the carriage. When they 
started out of the room she pleaded with her father 
to let her take the baby along. But he made no 
reply till he got to the carriage when he said al- 
most harshly: ‘Lillian, be quiet; I know what is 
best.’ 

“Miss Watson hastily gathered up some of Lil- 
lian’s clothes, stuffed them into a suit case and 
rushed out to the carriage, whispering as she passed 
me in the door : ‘ Good-night, Miss Eishnell ; I’ll 
see you in a few days again.’ The commotion had 
so disturbed the baby that she was yelling vigor- 
ously ; and since it was no longer possible to com- 
fort the mother, I turned my attention to the child. 


Sin, Wealth and Moral Poverty 231 

“ That was an awful night. I scarcely closed my 
eyes. ITot so much because the baby was restless 
as if conscious of being an orphan ; but especially 
because I knew the mother was drinking deep from 
the bitter cup of despair. I knew her heart was 
torn and bleeding from inexpressible anguish. Then 
there lay the innocent, helpless baby robbed of her 
own mother’s love and despised by her father who 
was the real sinner and who, being without grief 
and shame, moved right on uncondemned in the 
cruel sham of his life. On Sunday a saint in the 
church, but on Monday a demon in disguise. 

“ Then as I sat up that night and thought of how 
hundreds of other young women in their innocence 
were unwittingly in peril from scores of vile men 
who are sometimes using a Christian profession as 
a screen to cover their devilish deeds, I felt that life 
is indeed more cruel than the grave. For as heart- 
less as the mob on Golgotha, society is crying: 
‘ Stone the woman ; let the man go free ! ’ ” 







> f 



XI 

A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 
















XI 


A TEAGEDY VEILED IN A HOME OP 
LUXUEY 

“ T T was Tuesday night when Lillian was taken 
I home. Wednesday passed without a word 
JL from her. Thursday night and still I had 
no message from her. It seemed so strange that I 
went to the telephone and called the Millburn num- 
ber, when I was informed by ‘ Central ’ that the 
telephone had been removed from the Millburn res- 
idence. 

“ Saturday morning this letter was received : 

“ ‘ Deak Miss Eishnell : 

‘‘ ‘ Won’t you come to see me at once ? Our 
’phone has been taken out and papa won’t let me 
leave the house. I can’t sleep or eat or do anything 
but think of my little darling. Oh, Miss Eishnell, 
what can I do ? My heart hurts so I can’t stand 
it. So please come over right away ; for I want to 
tell you what I think I will do. 

“‘Kiss my dear little darling for me. Oh, I 
would give the world just to have her in my arms. 
You have been so good to me. I can’t tell you how 
much I love you for it all. I hope God will pay 
you somehow. Do come to-morrow early and tell 
me all about her. Oh, can’t you bring her along ? 
I don’t care what people say. I don’t care for any- 
thing now. She is my only joy in the world. Oh, 
do bring her, and I’ll be so happy ! Kiss both 
235 


236 The Mastery of Love 

sweet little cheeks and her tiny hands. Is her eye 
still sore ? Please come to-morrow. I must tell 
you something. 

“ ‘ Your sorrowing friend, 

“ ‘ Lillian.^ 

“ As soon as possible after getting this letter, I got 
ready and hurried over to the Millburn home. Be- 
fore reaching the house I saw Lillian waving her 
hand from a second story window. Miss Watson 
met me at the door and took me up to Lillian’s 
room. She looked ten years older than when I saw 
her a few days before. She asked every conceiv- 
able question about her child. Presently she began 
weeping when Miss Watson got up and said : 
‘ Lillian, you ought to be ashamed to cry so much ; 
you ought to try to forget and think of other 
things.’ She then excused herself and left me alone 
with Lillian. I was trying as best I could to com- 
fort her when suddenly she straightened herself up 
and looking deep into my eyes spoke scarcely above 
a whisper : ‘ Miss Kishnell, I want to tell you some- 
thing. Papa says I can never see my darling 
again. And I can’t stand it. I want to kill my- 
self. If I could get to the river I would jump olf 
the bridge. Oh, why can’t I have my darling ? I 
would be so happy ! But papa says I can’t have 
her. He said if I didn’t quit grieving and talking 
so I would run him crazy and ruin our home. I 
worry him. So I believe I ought to put myself 
out of the way.’ 

“ I pleaded with her not to think of such a rash 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 237 

act, and did my utmost to cheer her heart. But 
when I left I had a strange foreboding that pos- 
sibly I was saying good-bye for the last time. Fear- 
ing that she might undertake to put a tragic end to 
all her troubles, I wrote her a letter a few days 
later. In reply I received a note from Miss Watson 
stating that Mr. Millburn had been advised by Dr. 
Hickson not to allow any communication whatever 
with the settlement. Consequently Mr. Millburn 
had instructed her to keep a close watch over 
Lillian and not permit any letters or other messages 
regarding the baby to reach her. I knew that meant 
for me to keep away and stop writing. After all 
that I had done for his daughter I felt that Mr. 
Millburn was extremely inconsiderate. But I 
determined to conform to his wishes absolutely. 

“ A few weeks later, I heard indirectly that Mr. 
Millburn had taken Lillian and gone to Lake 
George, Hew York, in the vain hope of changing 
the state of her mind by the charm of a novel en- 
vironment. 

“ My duties at the settlement were so exacting 
that I had to leave the care of the baby almost en- 
tirely to an old colored nurse. I would visit the 
room at least once a day, sometimes every few 
hours. But the child soon showed symptoms that 
were distressing to me. The milk didn’t agree with 
her apparently. She would eat extremely little. 
Her sleep was irregular and fitful. Often she 
awoke in paroxysms of screaming and would cease 
only at complete exhaustion. 


238 The Mastery of Love 

“ I called in my own physician ; for I was not 
quite satisfied to trust her case to any one else. She 
had become as dear to me as if she were my own 
child. When my physician arrived at the settle- 
ment I first explained all about the case. He 
listened with the keenest interest. Then he began 
asking questions. He wanted to know about the 
former physician, the trained nurse, and the colored 
woman who was now caring for the child. He 
wanted to know if any medicine had been pre- 
scribed. Dr. Hickson had sent us some sort of 
medicine with instructions to give ten drops at a 
time to make her sleep. 

“ Then he asked that we go over to see the baby. 
He examined her very thoroughly and fired dozens 
of questions at the colored nurse. Presently he 
turned to me and asked that I let him see the bottle 
of medicine. Intuitively I felt that something was 
wrong. But I had the utmost confidence in my 
physician. He is not only a master of his profes- 
sion, but his pity and purity and honesty make him 
a most worthy disciple of the Great Physician. If 
there was anything wrong I knew he would tell 
me. So I went to the mantle and handed him the 
bottle. He read the label, smelt and tasted the con- 
tents of the bottle. With a frown he recorked the 
bottle, put it in his pocket and walked over and sat 
down in front of the old colored nurse who held the 
baby in her lap. Besting his chin in his hand he 
looked at the child in deep study. 

“ Presently he turned to me with an expression 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 239 

of pain on his face : ‘ Miss Rishnell, I am sorry to 
tell you, but somebody has been slowly poisoning 
this baby. I don’t think it is possible to save her 
now.’ Being horrified at this statement, I asked 
him to explain further. He did so saying that un- 
scrupulous physicians often made short work of 
such unfortunate children. He cited instances 
where there was a secret understanding between the 
father or mother of the baby and the physician. 
An unwritten, unspoken but nevertheless under- 
stood agreement that for so much money the physi- 
cian was ‘ to relieve their minds of the suffering of 
their baby.’ Then he added with feeling : ‘ Miss 
Kishnell, you don’t know this old world ; there are 
cold-blooded murders every day that are never 
written up in the newspapers. There are mur- 
derers of innocent children riding around these 
streets in their automobiles and regarded as good 
men. And there are rich mothers, society women, 
here in this city, who are murderers — destroying 
their offspring before birth. Their husbands know 
and approve, and so they are murderers too. If 
you only knew what I know of the crimes against 
the helpless babies of this city, you would not be 
surprised at my indignation. These things are 
almost too horrible to think about. Excuse me for 
speaking as I have. I thought you ought to know 
and be put on your guard.’ As he then turned his 
attention again to the child, I felt dazed and be- 
wildered as if modern civilization had suddenly and 
before my eyes dropped back a thousand years. 


240 The Mastery of Love 

After prescribing for the child, he left asking me 
to telephone him from time to time about her con- 
dition. 

“ For the rest of the day I often thanked God 
for the Christian physician, and as often felt 
grieved that in America, Christian America, some of 
‘ the best people in society ’ were murderers of their 
own young. 

“ It was only a few evenings after this occurrence, 
when there was to be a social function at the 
church of which Captain Kirkwood was Sunday- 
school superintendent. I had been invited to make 
a talk on the settlement work. I appreciated the 
opportunity as well as the social courtesy and had 
definitely planned to go. A thunder-storm came 
over at the time announced, and so I found it im- 
possible to make the trip. As the lightning had 
also put my telephone out of commission, I had to 
give up all hope of going, when my door-bell rang. 
The house girl hastened back with a note signed 
by Captain Kirkwood, stating that he was so anx- 
ious for me to come that he had taken the liberty 
of sending his son in a carriage for me. I thought 
surely Frank Kirkwood wouldn’t dare come near 
the settlement. So to make sure I sent the girl 
down at once to invite the messenger to my library 
while I waited with mingled feelings of hope and 
dread. 

“ Frank Kirkwood walked in with as calm and 
serene a look as if he had been a saint. For an 
instant I felt that surely he could not be a criminal. 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 241 

Yet I knew him and I knew his life. There was no 
room for doubt. He seemed to be the very incarna- 
tion of grace and courtesy as he bowed and smiled 
and thanked me for the invitation to take a seat. 
I excused myself and went to my room. I fell on 
my knees and prayed as I never prayed before ex- 
cept for Banford. I have no idea how long I was 
there. When I got up I felt that I had a message 
for Frank Kirkwood — a message from God — just 
as truly as John the Baptist had a message for 
Herod. My whole being was set on delivering this 
message. I was conscious of a strange new power 
that dispelled all fear; for I was upheld by the 
hand of God who spoke through me that night. 

“ When I returned to the room Frank seemed 
puzzled and nervous as if he had heard me pray- 
ing. But I knew he had not. He arose and stood 
till I drew a chair up and sat down just in front of 
him. He then offered me a palm leaf fan which he 
had picked up from the table and sat down. I 
asked him a number of questions about the enter- 
tainment at the church, watching all the while for 
my chance to open the most terrible conversation I 
ever had. 

“ Presently I began abruptly : ‘ Mr. Kirkwood, I 
am sorry, but I cannot go to the church this evening. 
I should like to talk with you about a matter that 
concerns you. I believe you know Miss Lillian 
Millburn, do you not ? ’ He flinched and the blush 
of shame made his eyes look glassy, as he replied : 
‘ Yes, she is a friend of mine.’ ‘ Is she a friend of 


242 The Mastery of Love 

yours now?’ I inquired. ‘Well, we used to be 
good friends, but she has been away for several 
months now, you know,’ he replied. ‘Yes, I do 
know,’ 1 continued, ‘ and you know exactly why. 
Mr. Kirkwood, I know you. You have broken the 
heart of Lillian. You have ruined her life forever. 
Your crime is sending her to an early grave. Kot 
only so, but your own baby lies at the point of death 
next door. It is dying from poison given by your 
physician, and given at your suggestion. Mr. 
Kirkwood, you are a murderer. You have des- 
troyed the virtue of a pure girl who loved you, and 
you are murdering your own baby. If there ever 
was a soul that deserved the torments of hell it is 
you. It is impossible for you to imagine a meaner 
person, a more heartless person, a more fiendish 
criminal than yourself. Yet you profess to be a 
Christian, and conduct prayer-meetings. God will 
utterly abandon you forever, unless you repent of 
your sin and crime. Will you repent ? Or will 
you carry that guilty conscience through eternity ? 
The blood of Lillian and your baby will burn as fire 
in your soul for a thousand years. 

“ ‘ Yet God is merciful. Even a murderer like 
yourself may find pardon. You have no choice, 
Mr. Kirkwood, it is repent or perish forever. What 
will you do ? I am praying for you and I believe 
even now God will forgive if you only repent of 
your sins.’ 

“ In response to this appeal, he got up and with a 
contemptuous smile said ; ‘ Excuse me. Miss Eish- 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 243 

nell, but I have sense enough to look after my own 
affairs. If you simply want to abuse me, I think 
I had better go on back to the church where my 
friends are more considerate of my feelings.’ 

“I was so disappointed at the resentment he 
showed for my appeal in his behalf that I could 
think of nothing further to say. He stalked out the 
door and drove off. 

“ A few days after this occurrence the baby died. 
We buried her one late afternoon in the cemetery 
about three miles from the settlement. There were 
just four of us at the grave, Miss Palmer, my 
physician, Kev. Kobert Watts who was a sort of 
spiritual adviser for the settlement and myself. 
We all knew the circumstances and we all wept as 
we prayed on the western slope of the hillside where 
we laid the little body to rest in the twilight. Then 
we sang : 


By cool Siloam's shady rill 
How fair the lily grows ! 

How sweet the breath, beneath the hill, 
Of Sharon’s dewy rose ! 


“ ‘ Lo ! such the child whose early feet 
The paths of peace have trod ; 

Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, 
Is upward drawn to God. 


** ‘ By cool Siloam’s shady rill 
The lily must decay ; 

The rose that blooms beneath the hill 
Must shortly fade away. 


244 Mastery of Love 

“ ‘ And soon, too soon, the wintry hour, 

Of man’s maturer age 
Will shake the soul with sorrow’s power. 

And stormy passion’s rage. 

“ ‘O Thou, whose infant feet were found 
Within Thy Father’s shrine. 

Whose years, with changeless virtue crowned. 

Were all alike divine ; 

“ ‘ Dependent on Thy bounteous breath. 

We seek Thy grace, alone. 

In childhood, manhood, age, and death. 

To keep us still Thine own.’ 

“ I returned to my work to find relief of mind 
only in serving others. 

‘‘ I became so absorbed in my duties that in a few 
weeks I was beginning to recover from the shock 
of the sad experience through which I had passed. 
Then it all had to be lived over again. For about 
three weeks after the baby’s death, Mr. Millburn 
and Lillian returned from Lake George. After a 
short stay there, he was convinced that it would 
not help Lillian to keep her away from home. She 
had gone into a rapid decline. Fearing she had 
consumption he hastened back home thinking that 
possibly the only way to save her life would be to 
let her have her child again. He knew nothing of 
what had happened. My first knowledge of their 
return was a telephone call from Mr. Millburn at 
his office asking me to go out to his home to see 
Lillian. He said she was not well and was griev- 
ing so to see me that he wanted me to go out at 
once. 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 245 

“ It took me a very short while to make prepara- 
tions to go. I found her so pale, emaciated, and 
with such sunken, sad eyes that my heart ached 
with pity for her. The moment I appeared at the 
door she rushed to my arms weeping and after sob- 
bing for a moment on my shoulder she asked about 
the baby. I couldn’t reply to her question. It was 
with extreme difficulty that I kept from weeping 
myself. I tried to talk about other things and to 
divert her mind till I could get a more favorable 
hour in which to tell her of the child. But she 
kept insisting that I tell her aU about her darling. 
Then I had to tell her plainly that her baby was 
dead. I thought it would kill her. We wept to- 
gether and then I prayed. After getting a firmer 
grip on my feelings, I began telling her about the 
death, except the poison, and described the burial. 
She would have me tell her just where the grave 
was located. Fortunately I had been to the ceme- 
tery with Lillian after her mother’s death. We sat 
by her mother’s grave. As we sat there under two 
beautiful magnolia trees, we had talked about a 
stone in an adjoining lot. It was the stone figure 
of Christ sitting with a child in each arm and a boy 
standing at his knee. Lillian was deeply impressed 
with the truth which the monument expressed so 
strikingly. Just across this lot was the grave of the 
only child of my physician. We had talked about 
all these things, so that she knew the location quite 
well. 

“ When the baby died my physician asked me 


246 The Mastery of Love 

to have her buried in his lot by his own little girL 
So I told Lillian that her baby was resting sweetly 
by the side of Dr. Martin’s little Beatrice. I 
thought this might comfort her and at least relieve 
the sense of loneliness. I told her of the flowers we 
all laid on the tiny grave and how dear old Brother 
Watts had prayed for the Good Shepherd to take 
this little lamb up in His arms and carry it gently 
in His bosom, and how he prayed that the mother 
might follow it home to heaven. Then I told her 
how we all sang ‘ By Cool Siloam’s Shady Kill.’ 

“ She listened to it all with the deepest interest, 
now and then wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“ I stayed with her all that afternoon. It seemed 
almost impossible to leave her. I did so only after 
promising to return the next morning. 

“ On my way back to the settlement I censured 
myself that I had not in my haste taken her some 
flowers to help brighten her room. So I stopped at 
a store in town and sent out some beautiful white 
roses and carnations. It was the only time in my 
life that I felt it was right to be extravagant. The 
flowers cost me nearly flve dollars. But I gladly 
paid it. I felt that those beautiful flowers were 
cheap at any price if they would only carry a little 
gladness to Lillian and make her sure of my love. 

“ From the florist store I walked down the street 
a few blocks to Mr. Millburn’s oflice. The porter 
said he was holding some kind of meeting. But I 
insisted that my business was also urgent and that I 
must see him. I sent in my card and he hastened 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 247 

out and explained that he was in a very important 
meeting with the directors of the bank, but that 
they would be through in a few minutes and then 
he wanted to talk with me. I was taken to a 
small private room in the bank and given the 
afternoon paper. I glanced at the front page with 
no thought of reading the news, but much as a child 
would look at a book, for my thought was all about 
Lillian and the little grave on the western slope of 
the hill. But my eyes did see enough to catch the 
big head-lines : ‘ Mr. Millburn and His Daughter 
Arrive.’ 

“I was reading over this news item when Mr. 
Millburn came in. He seemed to be quite pleased 
to see me, though his face bore the marks of sor- 
row and fear. He explained to me how Lillian 
had spent the entire time on their long trip 
grieving for the baby. He said nothing would 
comfort her ; and all his efforts to divert her affec- 
tion seemed only to intensify her love for the baby. 
Furthermore her health was such that he was con- 
vinced that she had a serious case of consumption. 
A physician had told him as much. Becoming 
alarmed over her health and also fearing the mental 
consequence of so much grief he decided to hasten 
home and if possible relieve her mind by letting her 
stay with me and the child for at least a while. 
At this time he had not heard of the child’s death. 
When I told him that the baby had been dead for 
several weeks, he first looked disappointed then 
quietly remarked : ‘ Well, poor thing, I reckon it is 


248 The Mastery of Love 

better off dead. Maybe, too, Lillian will be better 
satisfied now if she knows it is gone.’ 

“ I hastened, however, to say that I had told 
Lillian of the baby’s death and that she was pros- 
trated with grief. I urged him to go out at once 
to be with her. He insisted that I get in his 
automobile and go back home with him ; but as I 
had an important meeting on at the settlement 
that evening I explained that it was impossible. I 
promised to return to his home in the morning 
and spend as much time with Lillian as I could 
during the next week or so. As I started to leave 
he took my hand and said with tears : ‘ Miss 
Kishnell, I want to thank you for all you have 
done for us, and for your kindness to Lillian. I 
believe she loves you more than she ever loved 
her own mother. My only hope is that you may 
be able to help us.’ 

On reaching my library I tried to make prepa- 
rations for the evening meeting. But my thought 
was all about Lillian and that broken-hearted 
father. They completely absorbed my mind. 
When the hour came for the meeting, I felt so 
out of harmony with all but the sobs and tears 
and heartache of that shattered home across town 
that I asked Miss Palmer to take charge of the 
meeting. She looked at me with surprise, but 
when I assured her that I would explain later, she 
agreed. 

“ I went to my room and tried to find some solace 
in reading the fourteenth and seventeenth chapters 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 249 

of the Gospel of John. But I could not bring my 
mind from the scenes of the day even to think of 
those sacred words. I then took refuge in the Chris- 
tian’s unfailing haven of rest when the tempests of 
life rage and the billows of sorrow threaten to en- 
gulf the soul. The moment I turned to prayer that 
beautiful hymn passed into my mind and I sang it on 
my knees : ‘ Peace, peace, the gift of God’s love.’ 
During the singing my soul was flooded with such a 
wonderful peace and joy that I felt heaven itself could 
never afford any sweeter and more ecstatic expe- 
rience. My whole being was thrilled and saturated 
with a heavenly harmony and held in such a glorious 
calm that I seemed to feel the very pulse beat of 
the Eternal. All fear and sadness passed from me. 
Heaven seemed to have been let down into my 
room, and but for my dull ears I could have heard 
the angels singing. My body for that sacred hour 
was in my way. I walked to mj window and 
gazing out into the beautiful, clear, eastern sky, 
the very stars seemed to be companions and but 
for the weight of my body, I could fly away on 
the wings of thought to those far-off worlds of 
light. There was no past or future then, eternity 
seemed crowded into those few minutes. My long 
lost loved ones seemed near and I dared not reach 
out my hand lest I should touch the Saviour Him- 
self, and by unclean flesh disturb the sweet com- 
munion of my spirit with Him. 

“ The spell of that hallowed trance was broken 
when Miss Palmer knocked at my door and called 


250 The Mastery of Love 

to me: 'Miss Eishnell, you are wanted at the 
telephone.’ The interruption came as a shock, 
and I felt as if I had been called back from the 
joys of heavenly peace and rest to take up the 
routine humdrum of my daily work. Yet all things 
seemed somewhat different because of the expe- 
rience I had just passed through. 

“ On going to the telephone I observed that it 
was nearly ten o’clock, and I was greatly surprised 
at the lateness of the hour. 

“ Mr. Millburn was at the telephone. His voice 
was all in a tremor as he told me that Lillian had 
disappeared. He said they had been searching 
over an hour for her and thought she might have 
come to the settlement. He then asked if I could 
possibly come over, saying that he would send for 
me. I agreed to do so and began at once to get 
ready. All the while my one question was re- 
garding Lillian. Where could she be? I first 
thought of the river. But it seemed so horrible I 
couldn’t allow my mind to dwell on the suggestion. 
But over and over her words came back to me : 
“ If I could get to the bridge I would jump off.” 
Soon the automobile came. I heard it some dis- 
tance away and rushed down to save every second. 
I asked George, the chauffeur, to make a run to the 
bridge in all possible speed. He asked why I 
wanted to go to the bridge. My only reply was 
that I would tell him later, but for him to go and 
go quickly. 

“ It was then nearly eleven o’clock. Few ve- 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 251 

hides were on the street and George did his best. 
He slowed down as we approached the bridge 
when I asked that we go across slowly. My 
eyes searched along either side of the bridge, but 
I saw no one. Then I looked down the river, 
and oh, how I longed to know whether perchance 
my unfortunate friend was there. We crossed the 
bridge and turned and came back to the centre 
where I asked George to stop. He looked for the 
moment as if he thought I myself was going to 
make the fatal leap. But I soon explained that I 
had feared Lillian might have jumped into the 
river. It seemed he had never dreamed of such a 
possibility. We then gazed up and down the river 
and watched along the bridge for some minutes. 
Everything was quiet except for a passing street 
car now and then. 

“ Finding no clue there, I asked George to 
hasten to the Millburn home. All the way my 
eyes searched along the streets in the hope of 
catching some glimpse of Lillian. When we 
reached the house Mr. Millburn rushed out, eager 
to know if I had heard anything of her. The man 
could not have looked more helpless and anxious 
if an earthquake had suddenly swallowed up half 
the city. We went into the house and researched 
it from top to bottom. We even went through 
the servants’ rooms and shed out in the yard. 
We then went back to Lillian’s room and sat down 
in our helplessness, while we guessed and wondered 
and asked questions. 


252 The Mastery of Love 

“ I asked Miss Watson if any flowers came for 
Lillian that afternoon. She replied that the flowers 
came soon after I left and that Lillian became al- 
most frantic over them, she seemed so pleased. I 
then asked what she did with the flowers. ‘ The 
flowers ! ’ said Miss Watson as she turned to point 
to the table, ‘ oh, the flowers are gone ! ’ In their 
excitement they had not even observed that the 
flowers had disappeared. This was a clue. I felt 
sure she had not gone to the river with flowers in 
her hand. I was also confident that when she 
took the flowers she had no intention of suicide. 
‘ Where then would she want to go with flowers ? ’ 
I asked myself. My answer was that there were 
only two places on earth where she would want to 
go with such emblems of love. 

“ Without explaining fully all that I had in mind 
I asked that we go speedily to the settlement. In 
a moment we started, after Mr. Millburn had in- 
structed the servants to stay up and watch till we 
returned. On our way I explained that probably 
Lillian had gone to the settlement, and reaching 
there after I had left she might be waiting for me. 
But we soon found on our arrival there that this 
was a vain hope. Then I knew my other con- 
jecture must be true. I felt sure for myself, but 
feared to express my confidence. I turned to Mr. 
Millburn and said : ‘ Well, I wonder if it is possible 
that she went to the grave ? ’ The suggestion was 
hardly made till Mr. Millburn replied : ‘ Maybe so ; 
we can run out and see.’ The cemetery was about 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 253 

three miles away on a well macadamized pike. 
George put us there in a few minutes. The gate 
was closed, of course. The keeper was asleep; 
for the hour was then about two o'clock in 
the morning. So we had George pull up close to 
the rock wall, which reached to the level of the 
seats in the automobile. We then stepped off on 
the rocks and on the ground, which was on that 
side only about a foot below the top of the wall. 
We walked up the steep slope to the driveway and 
then along this road darkened by the magnolias 
and cedars on either side. As we reached the top 
of the hill, we stopped to get a view of the big 
pine by which I hoped to locate the grave. Seeing 
the outlines of two big trees close together, two or 
three hundred yards down the slope of the hill, I 
was somewhat at a loss. We walked on, however, 
in that direction. 

“ It was a cool October night, perfectly clear and 
still as the graves all about us. Oh, how my eyes 
tried to pierce the darkness to catch some sight of 
my dear lost friend. It was quite dark, especially 
because of the trees. We approached closer and 
closer to the sacred spot where I stood only a few 
weeks before and saw that darling baby laid away 
as if she had been my own child. I now felt a 
strange gladness to visit the scene again, and yet I 
dreaded it. As we came closer it seemed that my 
heart would stop beating. When we got within 
about twenty steps of the big pine, I said scarcely 
above a whisper : ‘ Let’s stop and listen.’ We stood 


254 The Mastery of Love 

still for a moment. My knees were trembling. I 
stooped, trying if possible to get the grave between 
me and the open sky. But we failed to hear or see 
anything. Then I thought that even if Lillian 
were there our coming might frighten her, so I de- 
cided all at once to call aloud : ‘ Lillian ! ’ Then 
we listened in breathless suspense. Again I called : 
‘ Oh, Lillian ! ’ Before my voice had died away in 
the darkness there came from our left a reply 
scarcely audible: ‘Miss Kishnell, is that you?’ 
For a moment we could not speak. We were sur- 
prised, almost startled at the direction of the voice ; 
for we had missed our way slightly. The voice 
was so muffled and strange that for an instant I 
feared the sound might be only an apparition. We 
slowly started towards the direction of the voice. 
We had no light nor any means of making one. 
After a few steps Mr. Millburn called out : ‘ Lillian, is 
that you, daughter ? ’ ‘ Yes, papa,’ was the unmis- 

takable response. We quickened our pace, bend- 
ing over so as to see her. She was sitting beside 
the little new grave. She was loath to leave, but 
we insisted that she go home with us at once. She 
seemed so hoarse that she was almost croupy. 

“We hastened home as quickly as possible. At 
my suggestion we had a hot bath prepared for 
her, thinking this might set up a reaction, and then 
massaged her with alcohol. I stayed in the room 
with her that night. She did not want to talk. 
She scarcely answered my questions. Her sleep 
was sound, but for a sudden start now and then. 


A Tragedy Veiled in a Home of Luxury 255 

“ The next morning it developed that she had 
contracted a severe cold. This grew worse rapidly. 
So not wishing to take any more chances, I sug- 
gested to Mr. Millburn that he allow me to call in 
Dr. Martin. He did all that any physician could 
do, for he prayed as well as worked. But it soon 
developed that in addition to incipient consumption, 
she had contracted acute pneumonia. Day after 
day I could see her growing weaker and weaker 
and I knew too well what the outcome would be. 
One afternoon the doctor called me out and said 
that Lillian could at best live only a few days. 
That night I sat close by her side eager to render 
any service possible. As it had been our custom 
since my stay with her, I read a passage from the 
Scripture and prayed with her before going to bed. 
This evening I read the fourteenth chapter of the 
book of John. My prayer was an effort to direct 
her attention to the life beyond the grave, where 
loved ones meet to part no more. After my prayer 
she seemed to be thinking very intently about some- 
thing. I sat down by the bedside, took her hand in 
mine and was stroking it gently when she turned 
and looking straight into my face with an expres- 
sion of infinite longing asked : ‘ Miss Kishnell, baby 
will be mine in heaven, won’t she ? ’ I just had 
time to say, ‘Yes, dear, yes,’ before dropping my 
face on the pillow, for her question had completely 
upset my emotions. 

“ Lillian grew worse rapidly the next day. 
Then in the early morning about three o’clock. 


256 The Mastery of Love 

while Mr. Millburn, Miss Watson and I were quietly 
watching for the angel of death to appear, she 
asked me to sing a hymn which she often heard me 
sing. It was also the one I sang alone in my room 
the night Lillian disappeared. 

“ ‘ Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin ? 

The blood of Jesus whispers peace within. 

“ ‘ Peace, perfect peace, by thronging duties pressed ? 

To do the will of Jesus, — this is rest. 

“ ‘ Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surging round ? 

On Jesus’ bosom naught but calm is found. 

“ ‘ Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away ? 

In Jesus’ keeping we are safe, and they. 

“ ‘ Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown ? 

Jesus we know, and He is on the throne. 

“ ‘ Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing us and ours? 

Jesus has vanquished death and all its powers. 

“ ‘ It is enough : earth’s struggles soon shall cease, 

And Jesus call us to heaven’s perfect peace.’ 

“ Then in a little while those sad tearful eyes 
closed quietly and shut out all the sorrows of this 
world. 

“We buried her on the western slope of the hill 
and not far from the little new grave where she 
had sat alone eleven nights before and wept and 
prayed for her darling. As we sang and prayed 
there together we rejoiced to believe that in the 
‘ Beautiful Isle of Somewhere ’ a mansion was pre- 
pared and a child was awaiting its mother in glory 
— the two reunited in love and joy forever.” 


XII 


The True Object of Life 



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THE TEUE OBJECT OF LIFE 

I T was during an At Home Evening at the settle- 
ment when McGregor and Miss Eishnell were 
in conversation, that I took occasion to refer 
to Andrews. After McGregor had explained what 
took place in our last interview, I asked Miss Kish- 
nell what she thought of him. She had seen him 
frequently and heard him speak several times. I 
especially desired to get her estimate of his charac- 
ter ; for in addition to her possession in a marked 
degree of woman’s sixth sense of intuition, she is 
the most unerring adept at reading character that I 
have ever known. It seems to be a natural gift 
which has been developed by constant use in dealing 
with all kinds of persons till she seems to be able 
almost to tell you what a person is thinking about. 
Her art strikes one at times as being almost un- 
canny. Her skill is in discovering the constant and 
ruling motives in a life. She regards the daily 
conduct, either good or evil, as insignificant except 
as symptoms of the underlying motives. “ The 
quality of a man’s character is to be judged by 
what he loves,” she remarked, as a sort of preface to 
her interpretation of this unique personality. “ Mr. 
Andrews,” she continued, “ is ruled by two sets of 
motives and ideals. The dominant impulses of his 
269 


26 o The Mastery of Love 

life are those which controlled him all during his 
career as a warrior, scout, prospector and criminal. 
He is selfish, covetous, cunning, courageous and 
cruel. These traits of character have been developed 
from childhood on up to the time of his conversion. 
At that time his character was fixed, his whole life 
was just as certain to be swayed by selfish motives 
as a tiger is by hunger. 

‘‘ But I believe he really had an experience which 
he calls conversion. At that time he got a glimpse 
of a better life, and aspired for nobility of character. 
But nothing short of a miracle could change such a 
man into a Christian. The awful tragedy of his life 
was during those earlier years of childhood and 
youth and early manhood when motives were 
growing. How they are developed and as unchange- 
able as the very bones of his body. He may want to 
have black hair again, but his wish can never be so 
intense as to melt the frost from those snowy locks 
and bring back the freshness of youth. He may 
aspire ever so much now to be pure and honest, but 
his soul is set as surely as the elements that cement 
the rocks of the mountains ; his will is mature and 
can no more be rejuvenated than the rafters in this 
building can be made to sprout and grow again. 
He really does at times yearn to be good. He sees 
the innocence of little children and is pleased at the 
charm of their sincerity. Yet he is doomed to be 
forever a hypocrite. In singing he gets a taste of 
the joy of godliness, but it is only a taste, his food 
must always be the tares that he has sown in his 


26 i 


The True Object of Life 

own memory. Now and then he may think of the 
true and the good and the beautiful, and long for a 
heaven of love, but it is too late ; the fatal parting 
of the ways was years ago when he chose the way 
of sin for a season. Now there is no turning back 
and between him and the way heavenward is that 
‘great gulf fixed.’ Andrews’ life is more awful 
to me than death, because he represents millions 
who are day by day following in the inexorable 
way of the sour hearted whose end is despair. He 
is like Dives in hell but knowing the happiness in 
heaven. He aspires to be good for profit, but can 
never attain. He craves holiness of life to soothe 
a stinging conscience, yet he knows that his 
famished heart can never enjoy so much as one 
drop of pure love. His very prayer is selfish. 
Still his only enduring good is a prayer with merely 
the shadowy hope of an answer.” 

At this point McGregor inquired: “Miss Kish- 
nell, do I understand you to say that a person may 
for years so habitually suppress all the better 
motives and impulses in his heart by sin, that it 
becomes impossible for him ever to respond per- 
manently to the good ? ” “ That is not only pos- 
sible, but I see the actual process every day. 
Instead of a child’s being born totally depraved, 
it is really endowed with good and evil attributes, 
but usually with the good predominant. The only 
thing most children need, if the blood is pure, is a 
good environment and incarnated ideals of moral 
and religious reality. Ninety-nine of the hundred 


262 The Mastery of Love 

will then grow up to be pure, noble characters. If 
for the first thirty years of his life a person’s en- 
vironment is evil and if his associates live in overt 
sin or in more poisonous hypocrisy, then he too 
will follow in the way of evil just as certain as he 
favors his parents. 

“ The saddest thing this world ever saw is not 
the destruction of earthquakes and of famine and 
of war as terrible as these are, but the saddest 
sight God’s eye looks upon is the cruelty of human 
society in permitting influences and environments 
to exist which so mould and fix the characters of 
the innocent children that when they grow up to 
manhood and womanhood they are doomed to live 
forever under the sway of evil motives that poison 
and embitter all life and make true happiness im- 
possible. 

“ There may be, however, one thing even more 
pathetic, and that is the sight of children born in 
hell. Some are; the children of parents whose 
blood is poisoned with crime and whose spirits are 
paralyzed with lust. The children of such parents 
are sometimes born dead, but they are more often 
born damned. The greatest curse of all the ages 
is the existence of such parents and the worst sin 
of omission of legislatures is that they have not 
restricted the marriage of criminals and persons 
whose blood is infected with the diseases of sin.” 

McGregor’s face at this moment looked like one 
big interrogation. He asked: ‘‘Well, you don’t 
mean to say. Miss Kishnell, that it is impossible 


The True Object of Life 263 

for God to save a person over thirty ? ” “ No,” 

she replied, “ I do not say anything is impossible 
with God ; I am talking about God’s habit. There 
is a great difference between what God can do and 
what He actually does. God could send manna as 
rain from heaven to keep the Chinese from star- 
vation, but He does not. God could have saved 
the Christians in the Boxer Massacre, but He did 
not. God has turned over to man very largely the 
building of this world. 

“ In the beginning God made man in His own 
image and breathed into him the spirit of divine 
life, but now it is for the parents to say what their 
offspring shall be. They are creators now. They 
may be so pure and strong in body and mind and 
be so godly and keep in such happy unison with 
the will of the Eternal as to be able to bring into 
life an immortal, heaven-crowned, God-inspired 
soul, the most sublime creation of eternity. Or on 
the other hand parents may be so possessed of 
evil, be so degenerate, so sinful as to breathe into 
the soul of their babe the spirit of a demon and 
blight his heart with the curse of moral disease 
until from birth the child is doomed to hell and 
his very first cry at birth is a wail of death. Here 
are these poor helpless children in Hell’s Acre. 
God could save them from the cotton mill, and 
the saloon, but He leaves that for us to do. If we 
want to let the children be destroyed for wages 
we can. If we are willing to leave the saloon 
here with its poison, and the vile house with its 


264 The Mastery of Love 

gaudy colors and sin, heaven will not say us nay. 
God could prevent the city slum altogether, but 
His habit is to let man build what he wills. Hell’s 
Acre might just as well be a community of pure, 
healthy, happy Christian homes, instead of these 
seething, vile, polluted dens of wickedness, disease 
and crime which are a repulsive, moral leprosy in 
the sight of God. 

“ God has established certain eternal laws of 
matter and mind. He has given man the key to 
understand these laws and the material with which 
he is to work. Besides, God has so constructed 
the universe that the advantage always favors the 
good and opposes the evil. Yet it is still in the 
power of man’s will to make this world a hell or a 
heaven. The horror of it is that so many are try- 
ing to make it a hell, and so few seem to be de- 
termined to make it a heaven. Still both forces 
are working daily, hourly under the same smiling 
face of the Almighty. God knows the far-off out- 
come and He waits in the infinite serenity of abso- 
lute knowledge. He seems to be satisfied with 
the battle. What of it if a few soldiers are slain 
here and there on the field ? The enemy is re- 
treating. Slowly, it is true, but retreating and 
that means victory — a glorious, eternal victory. 
It may be centuries removed, but a thousand years 
is as one day in building the kingdom of God. In 
that golden age that lies out before us a man will 
not say to his brother, ^ Where is heaven ? ’ for this 
planet will be one great city of God ; and no one 


The True Object of Life 265 

will then look up through tears and wonder if there 
is a hell ; for the sin with the tears will have ceased 
to be and all the histories of war and slavery will 
have been burned, and all the scaffolding in the 
building of the world will be removed and the 
accidents forgotten and then one may look upon a 
completed world and see the perfect man and 
God’s finished product will appear ‘ very good.’ ” 
Here Miss Kishnell remarked : “ Now, what I 
have said may not square with books on theology, 
but this is the way I look at these things.” 
McGregor inquired with a smile : “ Well, I am not 
concerned at all about the theology, but I am 
extremely eager to know the truth. You speak 
beautifully of what the world is to become in the 
future ages and of how man will ultimately live 
here without sin and suffering and enjoy holiness 
of character in a heavenly world ; but I am both- 
ered about another question. What is to become of 
Andrews and everybody like him ? He is living 
now, and you say his character is fixed and that he 
is to remain sinful forever ? ” Here Miss Kishnell 
responded with considerable feeling : “ What is to 
become of him ? Why, nothing can become of him. 
He has already spent his years of probation ; his 
apprenticeship of character making is past ; he has 
squandered his good motives and impulses for 
pleasure and gold ; he has become a dehumanized 
animal. He can never become anything else. His 
adolescence has passed, he has ceased to become, 
he is. 


266 The Mastery of Love 

“ This I may say is the curse of most modem 
business. It is a dehumanizing process. Its ob- 
ject is to acquire a fortune and not to develop 
character which alone endures with God forever. 
If these men who are giving themselves wholly to 
making money would just stop long enough to see 
that they are becoming money machines and will 
soon reach the point where they can become noth- 
ing else, they would hate modern business methods 
as they would dread poison. But no, they are too 
busy now and they will be too busy to-morrow and 
next year business will be greater still, but wait 
twenty or thirty years till this process has done its 
work. Then what? Yes, people will say he is 
worth a million, but that means nothing, they don’t 
care if it is a hundred million. They will say also 
that he is covetous and selfish — a cold, heartless 
money machine. That is the finished product. 
That is what he has become. He is despised and 
he too will come to hate himself and loathe his 
very existence, for his soul will be in reality as 
worthless and joyless as the sand in the bottom of 
the sea. 

“ There is but one value in all this world and that 
is character. It is the standard of values forever ; 
for other worlds as well as for this planet. We 
think too much of our bodies ; of our clay dwell- 
ings. If we only would think of ourselves apart 
from our bodies, things would look different. What 
value will a million dollars be to a disembodied 
spirit ? What value will a great pure love be then ? 


The True Object of Life 267 

When men think of themselves as immortal, as 
eternal, then wealth will be meaningless, and char- 
acter will be of infinite worth. My father used to 
be proud of his big farm on which he lies buried. 
'Now that farm is of no value except as it may be a 
blessing to others; but his character, developed 
while he was on the farm, is his only treasure for 
eternity.” 

There was a considerable pause after this state- 
ment and then McGregor said : “ Miss Eishnell, I 
must thank you for this talk. Things have been 
clearing up wonderfully while you have been speak- 
ing. I am beginning to wish again that I might be 
a preacher. I wish you would tell us what you 
think of immortality. Do you really expect to live 
forever ? ” 

“ I am perfectly sure of it,” replied Miss Eishnell. 
“I have no more dread of death than of sleep. 
There is one fact in this connection that has helped 
me greatly. God has never created a deception. 
You cannot find in all the world a single instance 
where God has created an essential desire or aspira- 
tion in beast or man that is without the existence of 
the corresponding object to satisfy the desire or 
aspiration. The fact that I thirst is proof that 
there is water. The attribute of love in my heart 
is conclusive evidence that others live whom I may 
love. The natural disposition to worship proves 
that there is a God to be worshipped. The univer- 
sal and essential yearning for unending life is 
absolute proof to me that I am immortal. It is in- 


268 The Mastery of Love 

conceivable that in a world of order God would al- 
low the deepest yearning of every human heart to 
be false.” “ That is fine ! ” said McGregor. “ Now, 
if I ever become a preacher I think I will be a mis- 
sionary. What do you think of missions, any- 
way ? ” 

“ It is the greatest work on earth ! ” she ex- 
claimed. “ In fact, it is the only business really 
worth while that a person can do. Missions is 
simply building the world according to Christ’s 
ideal and plan — it is making this world over into 
the kingdom of God. Any man that is not doing 
that in some way is wasting his life. Every person 
ought to be working to accomplish this one end — 
the kingdom of God. Any man who brings to pass 
God’s rule in business is just as much a missionary 
as Francis Xavier ever was. We need missionaries 
everywhere — ^men who will establish and maintain 
the rule of God in law, in politics, in business and 
everywhere on earth. 

“ My theory is that the world will have to be saved 
by sections. All we need to do to save any com- 
munity or country is to shut out all influences for 
evil and introduce in their place influences that 
aid the development of character. Most people 
naturally love the good and grow to be good if we 
only provide a suitable environment. I have chosen 
Hell’s Acre for my field. My work is like that of 
the farmer. I am to pull out the weeds of evil in- 
fluences and plant the seed of divine truth 
in the hearts of the people and then let it grow. 


The True Object of Life 269 

The harvest, too, will make glad the heart of 
God. 

“ Even more important is my effort to bridge the 
chasm that is widening between the classes in this 
great city. Our American cities are composed of 
heterogeneous sections that are at war with each 
other. Here is Hell’s Acre with its poverty, 
ignorance and sin, and out there is the big boulevard 
with its wealth, culture and selfishness. Between 
these classes is a great chasm. The finest task for 
patriots just now is to bridge this chasm, so that 
these classes may meet and come to understand 
each other, to sympathize with each other and learn 
to be mutually helpful. We need to fuse all these 
heterogeneous elements of our cities and then mould 
them into a solid homogeneous community. The 
only power under heaven that can do this super- 
human work is the superhuman Gospel of God’s 
fatherhood and of universal brotherhood faithfully 
taught and genuinely lived. 

“ The pity of it all is that there are some callous, 
burned out lives in which no truth can grow. I 
have less and less confidence in efforts to save men 
and women who have lived so long in sin that their 
habits and ideals are fixed. My time is spent in try- 
ing to help and save the children. It is easy to 
save the children, even slum children ; it is not hard 
to save young men and women, even the very worst, 
if they are only placed in a good environment and 
if the truth is faithfully taught by teachers who in- 
carnate their ideals. The young are plastic, but it 


270 The Mastery of Love 

is a human impossibility to make pure, lovable 
characters out of lifelong sinners, whose consciences 
are seared and whose souls are sour, nay, verily they 
are even now ready for the Gehenna of incurables.” 

On leaving the settlement that night, McGregor 
and I walked, at his suggestion, all the way home. 
At first he seemed to be in a profound study and 
was slow to enter into conversation. But later the 
secret of his thoughtful mood was revealed by a 
remark regarding Miss Kishnell. I followed up 
this clue with all the skill I could possibly com- 
mand, and before we reached home I had read 
some of the deepest and hitherto hidden feelings 
of his heart. 

He reviewed the whole story of his life — the 
early effort to support his motlier, his ambition to 
get an education, his mother’s sacrifice to keep him 
in the college and university, his loss of faith in the 
seminary and the period of bitterness and anxiety 
that followed, his failure in the practice of law, his 
mother’s death and the sorrow that would not heal, 
and his deep yearning still to be of some real 
service to humanity. Then he told me of how his 
mother’s death had intensified his desire to be use- 
ful and of the new and wonderful joy he had found 
recently in the work he had been doing in the settle- 
ment. Finally he said : “ After all I have come 
to believe that the source of all true happiness is to 
be found in just two things — friendship and work. 
I have never had a great mastering friendship 
and I have never found any work to which I could 


271 


The True Object of Life 

devote myself with enthusiasm. But since I have 
been going to the settlement, I have found more 
real joy than in all the rest of my life. My whole 
thought is focused in that place. And this fact 
leads me to think that possibly I ought to change 
my plans again and become a missionary. Practic- 
ing law seems such a useless, selfish life. It is an 
everlasting scrap and I want to help people. So I 
believe that in the work of missions I could find 
my greatest delight and best success.” 

I reminded him of his former statement that true 
happiness was to be found in “ friendship and work.” 

“What about the friendship? Well, for some 
time I have been thinking that there are just three 
things in the world that are sacred. These are life, 
truth and love. People talk about sacred places 
and sacred buildings and sacred books. But these 
things are not sacred. No mere thing can be 
sacred. People speak of the churches as sacred. 
Church buildings are no more sacred than a hospital. 
The people are sacred, not the church. They are the 
temples of God, not brick and stone buildings. 

“ Again people speak of the Holy Bible and call 
it the ‘ Sacred Book.’ But to me the Bible, as a 
book, is no more sacred than the dictionary. The 
truth in the Bible is the sacred element. It was for 
this that martyrs died gladly — not for any morocco 
bound book, however pretty, would one die. No 
place or building or mere book can be sacred, but 
life and truth everywhere and always are sacred. 
And woe unto the man that desecrates either. 


272 The Mastery of Love 

“ Somehow, I have recently come to think that 
the most sacred thing in all God’s universe is friend- 
ship. This is the very essence of life and truth. 
It is true of God as well as man. God is love ; and 
man at his best is love. Love unlocks the mystery 
of the universe. Love is the light that drives away 
the darkness of doubt. Love removes all fear and 
levels the way for every day’s journey. Love 
makes the bitter sweet and turns one’s sorrow into 
song. Love lifts the soul out of drudgery and 
breathes joy into work. Love opens the windows 
of heaven and lets the glory of God’s smile shine 
upon life’s pathway. I believe that love alone will 
solve all the problems of all the ages. Now that is 
why I think that friendship is so essential to hap- 
piness. One great love can recreate a life almost 
instantly. The fact is my own life has been com- 
pletely transformed within the last three months. 
I am no more the same person than if I had been 
born of different parents. I know now the secret 
of life, for I have a great friendship and I have a 
noble work to do and my soul is as happy as the 
heart of an archangel.” 

It was a late and happy hour when we bade each 
other “ good-night,” but as I walked up the steps of 
my home thinking of this conversation, I knew that 
in all the long centuries of the world the marvellous 
genius of Amor had never displayed finer skill than 
in the magic transformation of McGregor’s life by 
the mastery of love. 








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